


When The Sun Found The Moon

by BeExcellent



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Blow Jobs, Coming Out, Domestic Fluff, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Fantasizing, Fix-It, Friends to Lovers, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Internal Struggle, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Movie: IT Chapter Two (2019), Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Self-Discovery, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, Vacation, eddie is so oblivious, i tried my best guys, no beta we die like men, still no stan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:15:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 84,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28363767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeExcellent/pseuds/BeExcellent
Summary: "The closer Eddie had gotten to Derry, the more he remembered. Now in the Chinese restaurant, face to face with Bill and Mike, his brain was bombarded with memories, little glimpses from his past, in no particular order. One thing Eddie did find hard to remember were the last names of his fellow Losers, which puzzled Eddie the most. So far all he could remember of Richie’s was that it started with a t. He wondered if Richie had gotten taller, imagining what Richie would look like over 5’10. He wondered if he'd put on weight or if he was skinny like twenty seven years prior. Eddie wondered if he had facial hair, and if he still wore those stupid glasses that he was nearly legally blind without. He wondered if his freckles were still visible. He wondered if Richie wondered the same things about him. He wond—"This meeting of The Losers Club has officially begun." An unmistakably, inexplicablyfamiliar voice rang out along with a dramatic crash of a gong."Uh so yeah this is my first fanfic that I've worked up the nerve to post and I'm still trying to get the hang of this, please don't make fun of me.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 69
Kudos: 85





	1. In the Middle of Summer

**Author's Note:**

> so I don't really know what I'm doing, but if anyone does come across this I hope you enjoy

Eddie didn't really know what to expect for when Richie arrived. Of course, his memory of the boy— _Man_ , he had to correct himself. _Richie is a man now_ —had only returned in the past hour, give or take. As he felt the anticipation build and his attention to Mike and Bill's animated small talk fall away, another measly string of a memory floated to the surface.

_Am I still handsome as an adult?_

_You grow into your looks._

_Now what the fuck does that mean?_

Eddie smiled at the snippet, though he couldn't quite remember the context yet. He wondered what exactly Bev had meant when she had said that. Bev. Beverly. Knockoff Molly Ringwald. The closer Eddie had gotten to Derry, the more he remembered. Now in the Chinese restaurant, face to face with Bill and Mike, his brain was bombarded with memories, little glimpses from his past, in no particular order. One thing Eddie did find hard to remember were the last names of his fellow Losers, which puzzled Eddie the most. So far all he could remember of Richie’s was that it started with a t. He wondered if Richie had gotten taller, imagining what Richie would look like over 5’10. He wondered if he'd put on weight or if he was skinny like twenty seven years prior. Eddie wondered if he had facial hair, and if he still wore those stupid glasses that he was nearly legally blind without. He wondered if his freckles were still visible. He wondered if Richie wondered the same things about him. He wond—

"This meeting of The Losers Club has officially begun." An unmistakably, inexplicably familiar voice rang out along with a dramatic crash of a gong. Eddie turned his eyes to the owner of the voice, and pieces of the puzzle that was Eddie's memory clicked into place. He mentally smacked himself on the forehead for not having connected the dots before. Of course Richie was Richie Tozier, Trashmouth, renowned comedian with a PHD in deprecating comedy. Eddie already knew what Richie looked like, rendering all of his stressed-out wondering completely useless. Of course, the man that had once been Eddie’s best friend looked different up close and in the lighting of the Chinese restaurant, but Eddie would recognize that tall, broad frame and fluffy black hair anywhere. Maybe not necessarily as his childhood best friend, but definitely as the guy from Comedy Central with two specials on Netflix, who made a living off of bad dick jokes and yet was still somehow annoyingly attractive. The guy Eddie, in the past few months, so often found himself watching interviews and content clips of. He didn’t know why he hadn’t made the connection sooner.  
Eddie's eyes took Richie in, making note of the suave yet casual leather jacket, the muted yellow patterned button down that resembled so many from their childhood, and his stylishly plain fitted jeans. He looked more "himself" than he did on screen, Eddie concluded internally. His hair was almost the same since childhood, if a bit longer and curlier and with a higher hairline, but the twenty seven year difference was more visible in his face. He looked tired.  
 _Well that makes sense, since he presumably came all the way from Nevada_. Eddie thought, remembering the website brandishing the comedian’s tour dates and ticket options that he frequently skimmed. He hoped the blush he felt wasn't actually visible. He was simply nervous, perhaps because Richie was so successful. And he wasn't even the only one! Ben, Bev, and Bill were all practically household names because of their respective careers and accolades. It would make total sense for Eddie, a risk analyst with a less-than-perfect marriage and no media presence whatsoever, to feel less than adequate around them. Eddie looked at Richie further and realized that Bev was right. He really had grown into his looks, even if Eddie himself still didn't fully know what that meant. Richie Tozier was handsome in the ways that only Richie Tozier could be handsome. Scruffy yet refined, strong jaw and broad shoulders, yet not imposing or intimidating. His eyes were bluer than Eddie remembered, but they were not piercing or cold. They were, somewhat surprisingly, welcoming, nothing like how they looked onstage. Eddie found himself studying Richie's face, the way his glasses rested on his nose, his annoyingly attractive stubble, and the way his mouth—  
Eddie suddenly realized nobody was talking.  
"Look at these guys." He blurted dumbly, gesturing loosely to Richie, Bev, and a man that he had to assume was Ben. He mentally smacked himself in the face once more, but let out a small smile when Richie did an exaggerated hand-motion-facial-expression combo to articulate that it was, in fact, Ben. After that, the comedian started to look less tired and more himself. Or at least as himself as Eddie could imagine. He didn’t take his eyes off of Richie. They all eventually settled in, the awkward aura that had blanketed them still lingering.  
"So..." Richie began, clearly uncomfortable with the tension.  
"So." Ben agreed. Mike's smile hadn't left his face. Thankfully, a round of shots and other beverages arrived at the table, kicking off a more excited mood for the group. Eddie pretended not to notice how fast Richie consumed the alcohol presented before him.  
"I really missed you guys." Mike started, looking at everyone individually, his warmth beginning to melt the strange tension. "I really did, and I know you all didn't remember me or each other, but—"  
"But we all felt like something was missing." Bev interjected. Mike beamed at her.  
"Exactly." He replied endearingly. Everyone seemed to have an air of agreement. There really had been something missing from Eddie's life, even if he hadn't noticed until the day Mike called.  
"Well damn," Richie spoke up once more. "I thought that was just 'cause I had a Sonia Kaspbrak shaped hole in my heart. Nearly needed a transplant because of it." He put on a comical voice, one of many that Eddie was beginning to remember, and grinned, revealing that he never did end up getting braces like his father always threatened. He had never wanted them as a kid. One day, when they were about fourteen, he had said to Eddie that he liked his "fucked up teeth" because he thought they gave him "character", Eddie remembered. He kind of liked it. It was as if Richie never getting braces caused ten more puzzle pieces to resurface and click into place.  
"Honestly, how and why were we ever friends. Beep fucking beep." Eddie said, trying and failing to remain stony-faced. He knew Richie could see right through him when a betraying smile placed itself on Eddie’s face in response to Richie’s "Aww, c'mon Eds, you know you love me." Bill laughed loudly, and the defiant "That's not my name," that had come as naturally to Eddie as blinking went seemingly unheard as Richie turned his attention to the successful writer.  
"Big Bill!" He said, as if just noticing he was there. "Congrats on the movie, man. Hope the ending is better than in the book." Richie said with a nudge.  
Bill rolled his eyes but smiled. "You've read my stuff?" He asked genuinely. Richie snorted incredulously. Eddie felt the strange need to hide a blush that wasn't even there as he observed the two.  
"No," the comedian said with a small snort, as if it were common knowledge. "I just read some reviews once I actually remembered who you were, so all I know is that the endings suck." He grinned. "Bold of you to assume I've read a single book since we last saw each other. I'll let you know I spend my valuable hours perusing Twitter aimlessly, like the nobleman I am." He straightened his back and put on his oh-so-familiar British Guy voice. It had improved over the years, Eddie noticed, and smiled at the new memories popping up. They had become more frequent as the conversation began to flow more easily.  
Ben let out a modest laugh. "What do you do, Richie?"  
"What, you mean other than Eddie's mom?" Richie quipped with a smirk, his eyebrows raised high over eyes trained on Eddie, who glared back at him.  
"You are actually such an asshole, you know that?" He growled, unable to come up with a more sufficient comeback. Richie laughed.  
"Yeah, well being an asshole is what got me eight million dollars, Spagheds, so I can say with confidence that it is, in fact, a gift."  
Ben practically choked on his own drink. "Eight million? How'd you manage that, Tozier?" He smiled, eyes wide. Richie’s grin widened, much to Eddie’s annoyance. He had no right being that charming and, frankly, attractive when Eddie was trying to be mad at him.  
"What, you can't tell that it's solely because of my dashing good looks and flawless personality?" He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. Eddie heard Bev make a noise somewhere in between a laugh and a sigh.  
"Richie here," she filled in before Richie could make another good-natured jibe, "is a stand-up comedian. He's got a bunch of stuff on Netflix, I'm surprised you haven't seen any of it. He's really been promoting the shit out of his most recent special." She gave a sly grin at the end, receiving the bird immediately followed by a wink from Richie. Ben made an expression almost akin to embarrassment as he picked up his own drink once more.  
"Oh uh. I'm not on. Netflix, I mean. I don't really watch too much TV I guess." He offered sheepishly. "But I'm sure it's really great! Especially if you're worth—what was it? Eight million?"  
"Trust me, you're not missing much." Eddie grumbled, picking up a menu. He felt Richie's eyes on him despite the fact that the taller man had begun to talk to Bev and Ben separately, who had begun to ask him about his career, but refused to look up.  
"Oh!" Mike suddenly exclaimed. It wasn't a particularly loud noise, but it definitely startled Eddie. He didn't feel Richie's eyes leave him. "Eddie, is that a wedding ring I see?" The Derry expert asked innocently, eyes glimmering.  
"Uhh...yeah, man," was all Eddie managed. Mike turned his full attention to Eddie now, expectant of him to continue, not realizing Eddie had no idea what to say. Eventually, they struck up some bearable small talk, along with the rest of the group talking amongst themselves. Richie's facial expression had changed to something unreadable. He looked more like he did at the beginning of the night, but Bill's addition to his conversation with Ben and Beverly seemed to eventually turn him back to his usual self. Eddie pretended not to notice the weird feeling pooling in the pit of his stomach. He took another sip of his drink. Suddenly, he heard Richie laugh loudly and saw him proceed to do what was known as a "blowjob shot." Eddie was surprised he remembered what they were called, but even more surprised at how easily it seemed to come to Richie. Eddie looked back down at the menu.  
"So wait, Eddie, you got married?" He heard Richie ask with amusement.  
"Yeah, why is that so fuckin funny?" Eddie accused, head snapping back up to make full eye contact with the almost-buzzed man. He felt the familiar friendly aggravation, if such a thing could exist, that came with talking to Richie Trashmouth Tozier and nearly dropped his act of visible annoyance due to the wave of nostalgia that came with it.  
"What, to like, a woman?" Richie asked with a grin. Eddie grimaced, all nostalgic feelings retreating to a place where they didn’t threaten to turn Eddie into a blubbering mess.  
"Fuck you bro. Fuck you." He replied darkly. Richie took another shot, thankfully not distracting Eddie with a wild maneuver like with the last one, and responded with a barking laugh and an enthusiastic "Fuck you!"

After that, the night picked up pace, the tension fully and officially melting away with the arrival of new memories. At one point Richie did an impression of Jabba the Hutt to once again make fun of Eddie's mother, and Eddie had to admit, it was pretty damn good. Richie really had come into his own when it came to comedy and impressions, even if he just used it to demean others and make shitty jokes. Of course, Eddie would make sure Richie never knew that, or any of the Losers for that matter. There was food and drinks and life stories shared. Eventually, Richie made his way to Eddie's side and forced him and Ben to switch seats. When confronted as to why, he stated bluntly that he wanted to see this "so-called wife of Eddie's" with mildly slurred words.  
"C'mon, show me a picture. I wanna see if she passes." He had said.  
"Passes what? And she has a name, doofus, it's Myra." Eddie replied, suspicion and boyish curiosity lacing his question.  
"You remember when we were just starting to get into dating and we would always review each others’ dates? Now that I think about it, that was pretty fucked up, but it's fun as hell.” Richie asked with a grin, bringing another faint memory to the surface of Eddie’s mind. “I wanna do that, see if she’s as cool as me. Then you know you’ve got a keeper.” Richie gave wink and an attempted ruffle of Eddie's hair, to which he mumbled “What do you have, ten pounds of hair gel in here? Goddamn,” getting yet another grimace in return.  
After a moment’s deliberation, Eddie cracked a grin. "She would hate you," Richie’s own  
smile widened, a familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. For the first time that night, Eddie felt like the alcohol in his system wasn’t in danger of fucking everything up. He had been known to run his mouth a little too much when drunk. He didn’t know what secrets he had, per se, but he was sure there were some that he wouldn’t want shared. Even with Richie. "She would hate you so much, bro. You're like, the opposite of her. She's very tidy and...I dunno, careful. She lives as far from the edge as possible. She's always primping and preening and making sure everything is perfect." (He ignored Richie's "Huh, sounds like your mom,") "I dunno, it's tough to explain. Sometimes it's hard to be around, but I know she cares about me, and that's all that really matters. Right?" He said the last part almost desperately, but continued anyway, ignoring the way his neck felt warmer than usual. "Anyway, her name's Myra." He brought out his phone, knowing he'd end up showing Richie at some point or another. Richie shuffled his chair closer, eyes trained on the phone in Eddie’s hand.  
"You already said that," Bev said softly. Eddie looked up, mildly startled. He hadn't  
realized the other Losers, or at least the ones who'd showed up(Stan had yet to arrive) had been listening. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh yeah, so here's us in Cabo," He said, showing Richie a picture of them on one of their few vacations. Richie almost immediately took the phone out of Eddie's grip in a strictly Richie fashion. The other Losers crowded around, all peering down at the little screen.  
"Holy shit dude, you legit married your mom." Were the first words out of Richie's mouth, earning a light swat from Bev, a sigh from Ben, and a disappointed sounding "Richie" from Bill. "Am I wrong though?" He demanded. "C'mon guys, she looks so much like her! And acts like her, Eds said it himself! That can't be a coincidence. Something strange has got to be afoot, this is so fucking bizarre." He said, donning the British Guy voice with another barking laugh. Bev had a sympathetic look on her face as she studied Eddie, but all she said was "Beep beep, Richie. Don't be mean." Richie eventually forfeited the phone and held his hands up in mock-surrender. Ben, Bev, and Bill looked at him expectantly after settling back into their seats. Richie gave a moment's confusion before saying "Oh, oh right, sorry Spaghedward, she seems lovely." with a clap of Eddie's shoulder. When Eddie didn't respond, he placed a curled finger underneath Eddie’s chin to get him to meet his eyes. Eddie could feel annoyance boiling in his stomach. Why did Richie have to suddenly be so domestic? And why was he so good at it? Perhaps it was the alcohol. Why else would he perform such a sudden, endearing gesture? "Hey, Eds, look at me." He said, his voice softer than it had ever been that night. "I really am sorry. I took it too far." A small but genuine smile played across his lips, one that asked please forgive me. Eddie smiled back and gave him a playful pat on the face, skewering his glasses slightly. Richie laughed, and soon the table was back to the merriment. Eddie forced the comedian to pay for the next round of drinks for pushing it too far, though he knew he'd do it even if Eddie wasn't pressuring him, and soon the two found themselves locked in an intense arm wrestle. Richie revealed how much more defined his already firm forearms could get when he beat Eddie, who very much liked seeing Richie's arms bare. This annoyed him more than anything. They weren't even that special! They just looked very...safe, like he could really hold something with care if he wanted. They were hairy, more so than Eddie's, which annoyed him further. How did Richie end up so masculine and broad? A swarm of intrusive thoughts about Richie’s arms and shoulders and stubble and Richie entered Eddie’s mind. He found himself trying to drown them out with another shot.  
Eddie claimed that his loss was due to distraction, which wasn't that far from the truth. He had felt the phrase "Let's take our shirts off and kiss!" escape his lips while they were locked in together, and had a momentary internal _what the fuck?_ moment. Despite all this, Richie did nothing but gloat over his win. Eddie thought hopefully that Richie hadn't heard the strange utterance, relaxing when the comedian gave him a debonair wink and a flippant pop of his collar. Eddie realized that even if he did hear, he probably wouldn’t care.  
Eddie looked out among his old friends after that, seeing all of them laugh and reminisce and banter like old times, and thought to himself _Man, I don't know why I'd ever want to forget Derry._  
Then everything went to shit, and he remembered.


	2. All Was Golden in the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the defeat of Pennywise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really know how I feel about this chapter, but I hope y'all enjoy. Oh, I forgot to mention, fic and chapter titles are so far taken from Panic! At the Disco's When The Day Met The Night, which is a whole bop and brings all the feels and it really reminds me of reddie lol

"What the fuck?!" Eddie exclaimed as he was brutally tossed to the side along with the  entire weight of the man that had been below him mere seconds before. A claw stabbed directly where he would have been if he hadn’t been flipped pushed aside by the man he had just saved from the Deadlights. He blinked, his eyes blurry from the sudden movement. 

"Get up buddy," he heard Richie whisper loudly above him, his eyes eventually catching  up and viewing his savior.  _ Richie just saved my life.  _ One lense of his glasses had been cracked a while ago, but Eddie only noticed the intricacies of the fracture now. He tried to mentally sort out the last five seconds as quickly as possible. "This bitch-ass is still alive, but you did good. We gotta get up now." Richie said quietly, taking Eddie by the shoulders and peeling him up from the ground. Once the shaken man got his bearings, he switched back into Fighting Horrible Demon Clown from Space mode. He felt Richie's hand grip his forearm like at the three doors and had a momentary flash of comfort. Eddie watched It writhe around on the gigantic spike it had been impaled on before slowly but surely lifting itself off. They all watched in horror as the stab wound healed itself, like something out of the  _ Wolverine _ comics Richie used to read. 

" _ I am the eater of worlds. _ " It growled, rasping and demonic. Eddie felt like he should be  terrified, but something in the air had changed. His fear no longer felt like it had control of every single one of his cells. Bill stepped forward, rock in hand, like Richie had done. He chucked it at the spider-like clown. 

"N-n-not this one, you aren't!" He screamed. Bev assumed a similar stance next to him.  Pennywise paused with the ghost of a confused look, scanning the Losers silently. Eddie remembered her words that she gave him along with the spear still lodged in the creature’s throat.  _ If you believe it does _ . 

He looked at Richie before stepping forward. Richie nodded and puffed out his chest,  yelling "You're just a dumb fucking clown!" indignantly. 

"Yeah!" Eddie agreed. "A dumb clown who still thinks murdering kids is cool! Well  guess what? It's not the fucking 1980s anymore, asshole!"

Richie looked at him with a strange mixture of confusion and pride. Eddie just shrugged,  his fear receding as the clown ceased to attack. It seemed to be at a loss for words. "You haven't changed your look in like a thousand years, you dusty ass bitch! You're worse than me!" Richie yelled. Eddie practically laughed, but instead slipped his hand into the one gripping his forearm, gripping tightly. 

"You're just a fraud!" Mike stepped up. Soon, a chorus of insults were being  thrown at the all-powerful murder clown. And it was _ working. _ As It got smaller, they all got closer, eventually stepping into the crater that the small creature now squirmed on the floor of. Richie ripped one of It's eight clawed arms off, much to the surprise of the other Losers. He looked  _ enraged _ . Eddie had to tamp down the thoughts that came along with seeing Richie like that. He had seen it before, but not like this. Not so  _ mature _ . 

"That's for trying to fuck with my best friend, you fucking poser!" Richie yelled, his  voice reaching a tone that Eddie had never heard from the comedian before. He couldn't help but bask in the way Richie called him his best friend. Soon, the creature was small and depleted enough for Bill to kneel down and reach into the now-tiny chest and pull out a black, pumping, vaguely heart-shaped thing. All of the Losers gathered around it and put a hand either directly on it or on someone else’s. Eddie opted to put his hand on Richie's. He felt the structure, the knuckles, the skin, the mild hair that matched that of his forearms. Eddie closed his eyes and tried to burn the feeling of Richie's hand under his into his mind. After that, everything was a blur. 

The next thing Eddie knew, he was at the quarry, looking down at the familiar water. He  removed his shoes and jacket reluctantly and looked over at Richie, who was taking off his yellow patterned button down. He had lost his jacket somewhere in Neibolt, much to Eddie's disappointment. Richie had looked really good in that jacket. They all stood in silence before Eddie finally spoke up. 

"Are you sure about this you guys? I mean if it says no swimming it probably has a good  reason." He asked, very clearly worried. He really  _ hadn't _ changed. He heard Bev laugh. 

"That sign was there when we were kids and it never seemed to bother us then! C’mon, Eddie, have a sense of  _ adventure _ . You survived a clown from space that eats kids for a living. Twice. I think you can handle this, hon.” With that and a warm smile, Bev took a running leap into the deep waters below. Soon, everyone followed. 

They swam out to what they knew was a more shallow part of the quarry's lake, and Richie promptly claimed the rock that they all knew was just under the surface of the water. 

"You guys don't understand, my glasses are dirty as fuck and if I clean them while  treading water, I most definitely will never see them again." He said, cleaning the glasses with his wet shirt. Eddie tried not to stare at the patch of stomach he revealed. He wasn't particularly muscular anything, from what Eddie could see, but what was shown was still strangely enticing. Immediately after Richie put his broken glasses back on, Eddie crawled up next to him and pushed him to the side. The other Losers swam up close and laughed as Richie and Eddie bickered and play-fought, no different than when they were kids. They grappled until Richie wrestled the smaller man into a tight hug. Eddie looked at Bev and Ben, who were now swimming closer behind Richie, in confusion. Bev just gave a small, bittersweet smile. Ben shrugged as much as one could while fully submerged in water. Eddie closed his eyes and gripped back, not caring that Richie's glasses were digging into his shoulder painfully. The bespectacled man was trembling, Eddie realized, and soon the other Losers joined them in a group hug.  Richie pulled away with a wet sniff and an adjustment of his glasses. He pushed his fingers up underneath the lenses, rubbing his eyes free of tears before settling them in a sort of tent around his nose and mouth. 

"If you guys mention this ever," he said, taking his hands away, much to Eddie's relief.  Richie could very well get sick with his hands so close to his mouth and nose like that. "I will personally break into each and every one of your houses and replace all of your displayed photos with unflattering pictures of various past Republican presidents. Especially you, Eds." He said, earning a smattering of laughter along with a "you're so weird, Rich" from Bill and a "don't call me that" from Eddie. They eventually all broke away and Richie stood up on the rock and wrung his shirt out, causing water to drip on Eddie, who flinched in disgust. 

"You know you're just gonna end up going back in, right?" He said up to Richie, who  pointedly sat back down, his shirt once again becoming fully plastered to his body from the water that soaked it. 

"You're a smartass," he replied, ruffling Eddie's wet hair, causing droplets to fly  everywhere. Eddie just grumbled in response and tried to fix his hair, but smiled nonetheless. 

Soon, they were all back in the Townhouse, changing into dry clothes and packing their  things. Eddie had a fresh bandage on his face wound and freshly styled hair. As he checked his notifications on his now cracked phone, he heard a knock at the open door and turned to find Bev.  "Hey Bevvy," he said, pocketing his phone before he could read the twenty six(and  counting) texts from Myra. He didn’t even want to  _ think  _ about the voice mails he’d have to listen to. 

"Hey, hon." She had a soft expression painted across her face. "Can I come in?" She  asked, having started to enter already. 

"Of course, whats up?" He asked, patting the spot next to him on the bed. She sat down  and stretched her arms forward before settling and looking at Eddie. His phone buzzed and lit up with yet another text from Myra. Beverly looked at his pocket, the source of the vibration, and then up into his eyes. He couldn't read her expression. 

"Are you going home to happiness?" She asked suddenly. Eddie blinked at her. 

"I don't...know." He eventually replied, truthful. Bev pursed her lips, seeming to choose her words tentatively before speaking. 

"You remember," she finally started, "how Rich, before, at the restaurant—how he said  that you um..." 

"Said that I married my mom." Eddie filled in, reading her thoughts on her face.

"Yeah," she replied warily. "Well, I don't know if...if you feel the same way, but if you did  I just want you to know that I understand and that...you can talk to me about it any time, if you ever feel the need. I kind of...did something similar." She said, placing a hand on Eddie's own. He dipped his head and looked into his lap. 

"Y'know, he said it as a joke or whatever, but he was right. I spent seventeen years of my life trying to get away from my mom, and then when I finally did I basically ran right back to someone exactly like her. And...and I don’t love her." He confessed. Bev pulled him into a hug, which he gratefully accepted. 

"I know, honey. I understand completely." She said softly. Eddie pulled away and held his head in his hands, furiously running them through his unstyled hair. 

"What am I gonna do?" He asked desperately as Bev rubbed soft circles into his back. "I  mean, I-I-I can't stay with her, can I?" His voice was beginning to get strained and gravelly. "I don't love her! I don't want to be with her!" His breath quickened. "But where would I go, I have nowhere to  _ go _ . Before  _ this _ , my life was my  _ work _ and  _ Myra _ . So if I leave her, where does that leave  _ me _ ?" He rambled. His heartbeat could practically be heard from outside the room, it was going so fast. Bev took his face in her hands.

"Hey," she said softly, as if shushing a panicked horse. She forced Eddie to look into her  eyes. "Eddie. Everything is going to be fine. You're gonna have to go back home and talk to her. It's not going to be pretty and it's not going to be fun, but it's something you have to do. After that, I'm sure one of us could help you out. Ben is letting me stay with him while I sort my own divorce out, so I'm sure Mike or Bill or...or Richie would provide for you, too." She told him with smiling eyes. She pulled him in for another short hug. 

“Divorce…” Eddie whispered to himself, mulling the word over in his mind. Did he  really want to divorce Myra? Leave behind everything in his life that made sense? Just then, another person came to the door, giving a short knock on the door frame. Bev and Eddie turned to see Richie. 

"Hey guys, is everything all right?" He asked thoughtfully, gripping the sides of the door  frame with either hand. Eddie noticed for the upteenth time how broad his shoulders really were. It was more than he let on, so Eddie was mildly distracted every time Richie fixed his posture or squared his shoulders. He had a pink button down, one side solid, one side sporting thick vertical navy blue stripes. It was definitely one of his brighter button-downs, but Eddie couldn’t say he  _ didn’t  _ like it. The shirt was unbuttoned all the way, revealing a slate gray t-shirt underneath, and his jeans were similar to his previous ones, if a little higher waisted. He had removed the broken lense entirely from his glasses and his hair was dried and fluffier than before, if that was even possible. 

"Yeah, everything's cool man." Eddie responded with a weak smile. "Just talking about…divorce." He passed it off as if it were a regular topic of conversation. Richie made an understanding facial expression, a silent "Oh." hanging in the air. Eddie was finding it easier and easier to decipher Richie's many facial expressions and smiles. Richie had a lot of different smiles. Eddie remembered a time when he knew all of them.

"Alright, well I gotta go take care of some stuff around town, but I'll probably be back in like half an hour?" Richie said, as if asking for permission. 

"Of course honey, we'll all still be here." Bev answered kindly. Richie paused at the door frame.

"Oh hang on, Eds, can I talk to you for a sec—or wait, are you busy?" He asked. He seemed perky, like he hadn't just fought and defeated an ancient demon that had plagued his dreams for twenty seven years. Well, Eddie didn't know if it plagued  _ Richie's _ dreams, but it definitely had his, even if he hadn't realized until entering Derry. 

"That's not—" Eddie was about to scold Richie for the nickname, but saw twice when he saw the earnest look on the man’s face. "Uh yeah, no, I'm not busy, what's up?" He turned more towards the door frame, curiosity pricking at his stomach. 

"Um..." Richie threw a glance at Bev before bowing his head, and Eddie thought he could  see a blush creep across the other man's cheeks.  _ Odd _ , he thought.  _ Since when does Richie not know what to say? And since when does he  _ blush _?  _

"Ah," Beverly said, looking back and forth between the two. "I take that as my cue." She  chuckled lightly before leaving. 

"Sorry Bevvy," Richie said sincerely as she passed. "I'll make sure you have your own  Serious Talk With Richie sometime in the near future." He promised with goofy finger guns, laughing when she gave a "pshh" and a flop of a hand. Soon the two men were alone.  Richie entered the room cautiously, a rare sight for Eddie. It was a strange look on the  man, caution. He closed the door slowly and sat on the bed. He seemed to question every small action he made. It put Eddie on edge.

"Um, hey Eddie." Richie said shyly, coaxing a light laugh from the smaller man. 

"Hey Rich." He responded, receiving a small smile.

"Um, so what I came here to say is—alright let me—hang on I—" Richie stammered, much to his own clear annoyance. His brow was furrowed and his fists were clenched. Eddie knew how much his friend didn’t like not knowing what to say.

"Richie. It's ok. It's just me." Eddie assured. Richie took a breath with closed eyes. When  he opened them again, he looked fiercely determined and began to speak steadily. 

"Remember in Neibolt, when you almost...when It almost hurt you?" He asked, as if Eddie could forget. He only nodded in response. "Well that kinda made me realize how easy someone can just leave your life completely, and if I'm being honest, it scared the shit out of me. I had just found you and I almost lost you again, and I don't think I'd be able to go through that, with all the shit I already have going on and with...and with Stan and all..." A long pause. Eddie swallowed, Stan’s death still not fully settled in. Richie didn’t continue, but instead looked slightly lost. Eddie placed a hand on Richie’s own, the knuckles of which had turned white from being clenched so hard, and received a fierce blush in return. Flustered Richie was definitely something to make of. "I just...I realized that even though I completely forgot about your existence for like thirty years, you're still possibly one of the most important people in my life, and so I just wanted to tell you, before it's too late or something..." Richie trailed off, his cheeks pink. Eddie removed his hand and tried to coax Richie’s darting eyes with his own. 

"Wanted to tell me?" 

Richie took another deep breath. "What I'm trying to say...Eddie, is that I'm gay." Richie rushed on his exhale. After a moment of stunned silence, he nodded resolutely and met Eddie’s eyes. "Yeah. I’m gay. And it's something that I'm still trying to get used to not repressing I guess. It's weird. I've known for a long time, but I’ve never really felt fully  _ okay _ with it, you know? And I think one of the first steps to  _ that _ is actually telling people." He explained, confidence building with each word. Eddie smiled before knitting his eyebrows in realization. 

"I have too." He said, smiling at Richie’s confused expression. "I think I’ve known for a  long time, I mean. Of course I didn't remember for a while because of, well, everything, but I knew when we were kids." He said, massaging one hand with the other. Now it was his turn to be flustered. He cleared his throat. "I um...I knew when I saw you again at the Jade of the Orient. And I probably even knew when I watched your comedy specials and stuff. I don’t really know how or why but I do know that you're...you’re my best friend. Stuff like this...you don’t have to be nervous about it or anything like that. At least not around me. You shouldn’t need to explain yourself or give reasons for stuff like this. It’s okay." He said, nudging the other man's shoulder. Richie smiled and slung his long arms around Eddie’s shoulders, all tension released. Eddie knotted the back of Richie’s shirt in one fist before pulling away. "But Rich, off topic, seriously  _ what  _ is your sense of style? You're wearing clothes that you would've worn thirty years ago! That’s definitely something we need to talk about.” He said with a loud laugh. He knew it was the way to make Richie feel comfortable. Richie pushed his shoulder playfully and he let himself fall back on the hotel bed with a light chuckle. 

"I'll have you know that my fashion sense isn't half bad compared to your boring ass!  Plus, what about the jacket I had before? That was pretty stylish, if I do say so myself." Richie countered, joining Eddie flat on his back. They studied the ceiling together. 

"Yeah, I liked that one I  _ guess _ , but you lost it in Neibolt, dipshit." Eddie said, flopping his  hand palm up onto Richie's chest. He kept it there, feeling the steady rise and fall of the man’s chest against his knuckles and, underneath that, the rhythm of his heartbeat. 

"Wait a minute, you watch my stuff? Holy shit, you watch my stuff!" The comedian said,  whipping his head so he was looking at Eddie, the righteousness evident in his voice. Eddie refused to meet the eyes that he knew were studying him. 

"I mean, sure I've seen some of it. Maybe like half of a special on Netflix." He said  feebly. 

"Nooo, you've definitely seen more than that! I've been listening, Spagheds, I know  what's up. You said ‘when I watch your specials.’ You watch my stuff."

"I said no such thing! Slander! Seriously! I didn’t pay attention to any of your comedy. I  just happened to see you a few times when channel surfing. Don't call me that." 

"Oh you fucking liar, you do! And the fact that you could tell I don’t write my own stuff  has  _ got _ to be saying something."

"It's just that you're way more genuine in your interviews."

" _You've seen my_ _interviews_? Holy shit, Eds, you're a _fan_!"

“I am most definitely  _ not. _ ”

They continued like this for a little bit, Richie eventually getting a very flustered Eddie to  admit that, a year or two before, he had landed on a channel that Richie happened to be on, thought he seemed familiar, and proceeded to try to find out as much about the comedian as possible. Richie had laughed almost incredulously upon this hearing the admission. Eddie never moved his hand from Richie's chest, no matter how hard they both shook with laughter. Eddie loved Richie’s laugh, his  _ real  _ laugh. It was high pitched and infectious, and when he found something particularly hilarious his shoulders would shake and he would sometimes give one forceful clap or even hit the nearest surface(which, more often than not, was his own leg). Eddie didn’t think there was any sound more fun to listen to than Richie’s laugh. 

"Shit, I gotta go." Richie got up, stretching and cracking his neck.

"You shouldn't do that, you know." Eddie commented, propping himself up onto his  forearms. Richie made a face. 

"Yeah, yeah, I know, trust me. You never  _ didn't _ remind me when we were kids." He said  with faux annoyance, cracking his knuckles next just out of spite. 

"Alright, well don't come crying to me when you're an old man and your bones are all  fucked up with arthritis or something." Eddie replied. He sat up as Richie stood. 

"I already  _ am _ an old man with fucked up bones, Eds. Okay, I'll be back in a bit, don't  miss me too much." The comedian said with one last wink and ruffle of Eddie's hair. "If anyone asks, tell them I've left without a trace to go into self exile in Bosnia." He said, his swagger returning in his walk out the door. Eddie watched him until he disappeared completely, flopping back down on the bed once the man was gone. He sighed and tried to think of what he was going to tell Myra. 

It had been about fifteen minutes since Richie left to take care of his "business around town" and Eddie was bored. Ben and Bev had gone off together to do who knows what and Mike and Bill had gone to clear out Mike's "crazy man of Derry stuff”, as dubbed by Mike himself. Eddie had opted to wait in the townhouse for Richie to return.  He wandered around the townhouse, avoiding his phone and the texts from Myra that  came with it, and eventually resolved to pour himself a drink. Sure he had already drank a lot at the Jade, but he figured he deserved it. He had gotten stabbed in the face, fought and helped kill an interdimensional demon clown, nearly died on multiple occasions, and found out he was going to divorce his wife in the span of seventy two hours(give or take) after all. So yeah, he deserved it.  He put some ice and whisky into a small glass and took a big swig, soon remembering  why he was not, in fact, a day drinker. He felt his face contort at the burning liquid, audibly voicing his disgust with an “augh” after he swallowed. He put the drink down on the coffee table of the common area and sunk into one of the small couches with a loud sigh. He missed Richie. He wondered what his in-town business was. Stretching out on the couch and letting his calves dangle over the armrest, Eddie folded his hands over his stomach and closed his eyes in thought. He thought about the swelling of emotion he had felt when Richie had come out to him. He wasn't entirely sure what emotion it was, but it felt partly like pride and partly like...no that couldn't be right...why would he be excited? Perhaps it was just because he knew his friend was finally getting more comfortable with himself. Yeah that was it, he was just happy for Rich. Couldn't a guy be excited for his best friend? Eddie sighed loudly. If it's so normal, why did it feel like anything  _ but _ ? 

He tried to wave his strange thoughts and feelings off, but instead his mind wandered  back to the quarry. He remembered Richie's white skin, a bit of hair leading into his pants' waistline and a bit leading up to his chest, which hadn't been visible. He thought about how he's stronger than he looks, remembering the intense grip he had during the arm wrestle. 

_ Let's take our shirts off and kiss! _

Why had he said that? Eddie twiddle his thumbs and internally scolded himself once more. He remembered Richie's grin widening after that and looking positively wicked. And he had winked, too, after he won the match. Eddie could remember the feeling he got when that had happened. It felt like how it would feel if a stomach ache felt good. Eddie groaned and ran his hands through his hair, trying to stay his utter confusion and clear his thoughts completely of Richie with his cute glasses and tasteful stubble and unfairly sharp jawline. 

_ Think of something else _ , he willed his mind.  _ Think of anything, think of work, think of home, think of Myra.  _

Eddie groaned. Myra. He jogged up the stairs to his temporary room and reluctantly  picked up his phone. Before he could read the numerous texts from his wife, the door downstairs opened and someone came into the townhouse loudly. Eddie felt his excitement spike and sent a quick text saying he’d be home within the day to appease Myra before heading down the old stairs to investigate.  It was Richie, and he looked stressed. He was pouring the same alcohol that Eddie hadn’t  been able to finish into a glass devoid of ice and downed the whole thing in one gulp.

"Hey Rich," Eddie said softly and slowly, like he would to a skittery puppy. "Everything  alright buddy?" 

He walked slowly into the common area, and as he did so Richie paced with his hand running through his hair. Eddie stood in front of Richie to prevent any further pacing and squeezed his shoulders softly in what he hoped felt like a comforting gesture.  "Hey, you okay?"

The comedian scanned Eddie's face as if in a daze, his own still contorted with stress. He shook his head, seemingly coming back to reality, and shrugged Eddie off with a mutter that sounded something like "Yeah, Eddie, everything is fine."  Richie pushed past Eddie and headed up the stairs, the smaller man following him close  but silently. He entered his room and gathered a few small items he hadn't yet packed into his pockets. His bags must have already been in his car, Eddie reasoned. He stopped, facing Eddie abruptly once he was done, startling the smaller man slightly. 

"Dude, it's cool. You don't need to follow me around, we're not kids anymore." He said,  his words more harsh than Eddie expected. Harsher than Richie had expected, too, based off of his slightly shocked expression. Eddie had another flash of his childhood, of following Richie around the back of the arcade when his mood turned too sour for even gaming for some unknown reason. Eddie would watch him smoke cigarettes or furiously fidget with a Rubik’s cube from a safe distance until he was in a better enough mood for the two of them to get ice cream together. When this happened, Richie would never tell Eddie what triggered it, but he always seemed to have less negative energy afterwards, so Eddie had never stopped, no matter how long it took Richie to settle with his feelings. 

"Rich I—"

"No, Eddie, I'm sorry, that was...that was rude. It's just work stuff, really nothing to worry  about. I'm just a little stressed, that's all. I uh...I basically bombed on stage and then disappeared for three days, which is uh... _ no bueno _ in my line of work, and my work is basically my life, you know? Plus, my body hurts like a motherfucker. I am not in the same shape as I was when I was thirteen." He explained, attempting a smile. His eyebrows were still drawn together and he looked far away. They stood in silence for a few moments, Richie scanning Eddie's face once more before he suddenly gasped, making Eddie jump.  "Holy shit, Eds, you need to go to the hospital." He breathed, the stress in the air doubling. Eddie didn't even have time to correct him on the nickname. "You got stabbed in the fucking face dude, and yeah Ben did a good job patching you up, but that's not the—you still—do you want me to take you? I have to leave, I gotta meet my manager in Augusta, but this is more important, I can—"

"Rich, slow down." Eddie interrupted Richie's panicked flow of words. "Jesus, you sound  like me. Everything's going to be fine, I can go myself. I didn't...I didn't even think about that, actually. Ironic. But you clearly already have a lot on your plate, so it's fine." He rested a hand on Richie's shoulder once more. At that, the taller man enveloped him in a hug like the one in the quarry, this one much easier to execute since they were both dry and standing. 

"I don't wanna leave you, Eddie." Richie said, barely a whisper, into Eddie’s shoulder. "I  just found you and now I gotta leave you again." Eddie took a leaf from Bev's book and began to rub soft circles into Richie's back. 

"I know, bud." 

"It really fuckin’ sucks."

"I know. It's going to be ok."

Richie pulled away and adjusted his glasses, the missing lense making him look like  some sort of ocular pirate. He suddenly perked up. "Give me your number," he pulled out his phone with barely contained excitement. Eddie happily gave the other man his number before Richie went in for one last quick hug. "I'll text you," Richie promised, and Eddie was glad to see his eyes start to clear of stress already. Eddie nodded with a small smile. "I'm going to try to get the others' numbers too before I go. Thanks Eds. For everything." Richie’s eyes still weren’t as bright as Eddie was used to, and his smile was slightly sad, but he would be okay. Eddie was sure of it. 

"Wait, Richie," Eddie said before Richie could go down the stairs once more. The taller  man turned, eyes holding an emotion that seemed out of Eddie's reach. Richie tilted his head in curiosity. Eddie grinned.

"I fucked your mom."


	3. Would It Be Alright if we Just Sat and Talked  for a Little While

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On opposite ends of the country, two best friends are feeling lonely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy some long distance pining, I tried my best

A little over two months had passed since Derry, and Eddie had found that Bev was right.  Divorce was not fun. It was messy and intense and on top of it, Eddie still hadn’t fully gotten over Stan, so the biggest thing keeping Eddie positive was Richie's Twitter. On the app and in an impromptu interview, Richie explained his onstage bombing and subsequent suspension of his tour, which let Eddie know that the only reason Richie wasn't texting was because of the stress of sorting out such a situation. At least, that's what Eddie hoped.  Richie posted about every day for a week, and then twice a week after that. Eventually,  his tweets cycled back to being more humorous, much to Eddie's delight. They brightened his days, and he often found himself refreshing the page multiple times in a row, even though he knew nothing new would show up. Eddie had been staying with a co-worker who had a spare bedroom for about a week while he sorted out his separation from Myra, and though he was grateful, it was definitely not ideal. Paul was a guy's guy, all football and beer guzzling. He had an inane attachment to the game, something Eddie never really got into due to his “asthma” and small frame, and all the jokes he made often ended flatly, simply there to make fun of one group of people or another. It wasn't like Richie's joking, no, Paul was far from Richie. When Richie joked, Eddie could laugh and say "Fuck you dude!" and say things like "Let's take our shirts off and kiss!" without having to worry about how Richie would react because being with Richie was just  _ like _ that.

So Eddie stayed to himself, confined to the safe walls of Richie's Twitter page. He found  himself continuing his research of Richie Trashmouth Tozier even though he knew more about him than could possibly be put on the internet. He would watch and rewatch interviews on YouTube, no matter how irksome the host, and would always laugh out loud at Richie’s animated way of telling stories. Eddie smiled as he shifted to YouTube and clicked on an interview that never seemed to leave his recommended section.  His head snapped up moments later at the sound of the door unlocking and opening. Paul.  It was Saturday and Paul had gone out drinking with some buddies. He was younger than Eddie, not by much, but by enough for Eddie to decline his offer to join them. At least, that's what Eddie told himself the reason was. His thumb hovered instinctively over the home button of his tablet as he and Paul greeted each other. He paused the video in what he hoped was a discreet manner, trying to gauge Paul's next course of action as he toed off his shoes. He was a big man, but not like Richie. Richie was tall and broad, a man that could command a room by just walking into it; if he wanted to, that is. Most of the time, though, Richie had a way of appearing unassuming and almost demure, until he opened his mouth of course. He habitually hunched his shoulders, was nowhere near being someone who sits up straight, and on top of it, his personality was quite distracting from his height and his broadness.  Paul’s personality, on the other hand, made him seem much bigger than he really was. He  had sloping shoulders and a round belly that spilled slightly over his waistline. He was taller than Eddie by only about two inches, less than Richie, and yet Eddie always found himself drawing in when Paul was around, as if trying to make himself disappear. Paul was a nice guy though, despite his mildly offensive joking. He was nice to Eddie and to pretty much everyone at work. He let Eddie ferociously clean the entire apartment as much as he needed to get used to temporarily living there. He was friendly and smiley, always having something to laugh about. Eddie was pretty sure he was from somewhere more southern, perhaps North Carolina. Somewhere where his slight accent was normal. He had mentioned it often, but Eddie never really had the energy to remember. Or maybe he just didn't care. 

"Whatcha watchin' there, bud?" Paul asked amiably. He was always doing that, asking  Eddie questions. It was bad enough that he was simply going through a divorce, but it was so much worse when he had to  _ talk _ about it. And with  _ Paul _ , of all people. 

"Oh uh, nothing much, just bored I guess." He offered, only half lying. He tried to click  out as Paul rounded the couch to get to the small kitchen, but Eddie was pretty sure he saw the paused screen, as it took up the entire tablet. He clicked home anyway, only to turn the tablet off completely right afterwards. His suspicions were soon confirmed, unfortunately, while he heard Paul crack open a beer.  _ Wasn't he just out drinking with his buddies? _

"Oh yeah, I've seen that guy before. What's his name, the comedian." He didn't exactly  say it as a question, but Eddie mumbled a response anyway as Paul sat down on the couch, causing Eddie to curl further into his corner with the arm rest. 

"That's right, Richie Tozier. He's a funny guy, from what I've seen. Don't know too much  about him though. You like his stuff? Well you must since yer watching his interviews, am I right?" Eddie let Paul ramble, drowning him out until he saw the man, beer can in hand, looking at him expectantly. 

"I'm sorry, what was the question?" Eddie asked, too tired to care that he hadn't been  present. He checked the time and grimaced when he realized it was a bit past twelve. 

"I said, do you spend all your time on that thing watching videos of that guy? Cause you  always kinda have this look on your face when you get on there, so I was just wonderin' if it's him you're always smiling at? You know, like you were just now.” Paul asked, sipping his beer. His eyes looked suspicious, but his tone was friendly. Eddie found himself airing in the way of caution. He knew all too well where fake friendliness could lead to, and it was never a good place. He was a bit flustered, the reason escaping him completely. 

"N-no, I just saw this pop up and clicked on it cause I was bored. N-normally I'm on  Twitter or doing work stuff." He stammered, thinking of Bill's now long-gone stutter as he choked out his response. He didn't even know why he was telling Paul these things, he could just excuse himself and go to bed. But then the larger man just let out a guttural "hm" in return, so Eddie switched the tablet back on, opening gMail despite not having any notifications. He just needed to think of an excuse to get out of there. The awkward tension was almost unbearable. Paul sat back and sipped his beer once more, content to stay in silence. Or so Eddie thought. 

"Hey Ed, can I ask you a question?" He started, sitting forward again. An increasingly  disgruntled Eddie sighed, barely caring to hope that Paul didn't notice. Before he could answer, Paul asked anyway. "Are you gay? Cause I mean, if you were, I'd be okay with it, just so long as you didn't try anything with me or bring any guys around, know what I'm saying?" A haughty laugh. The way Paul said “I’d be okay with it” made Eddie think he’d be anything  _ but _ , which would not be good seeing as he had nobody else to stay with if Paul were to kick him out. Eddie felt his eyes freeze on the coffee table. He didn't want to be there, he didn't want to answer what Paul was asking. This would've been much easier if he were with Richie. Richie wouldn't ask so many damn questions. 

_Just say no, it's the truth_ , a voice in his head told him. Another voice popped up then, a much more Richie sounding one. _Aww, who are you kidding though, Eds. That's not what it seemed like when you were up_ _till one in the morning watching interviews of Richie fucking Tozier. How many times have you done that again? Like a thousand? You haven’t stopped thinking about his glasses or his arms or his jawline_ _since Derry. ‘Not gay’ my ass._ It chided. Eddie didn’t know why the Richie in his head was so much meaner than real life Richie. 

_ That's not my name _ . Eddie thought back at it.

"Come again?" Paul interrupted his little mind war. Had Eddie really said that out loud?

"I don't—you  _ do _ realize that I'm divorcing a woman, right?" Was all he let out. 

"Well yeah, I know that, but I thought maybe you were...takin' that _course of action_ cause you were, y'know...gay." Paul replied almost sheepishly.

"No Paul, I'm not gay. And don't worry, even if I was, you wouldn't be my type. No offense." Eddie spat, refusing eye contact. 

"Oh. Ok. Cool. Well um...if...nevermind." A strange air settled between them, the weight of Paul's unasked question hanging in the air. Eddie shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

"What is it, Paul." He demanded, too aggressive to be a genuine question.

"Well I was just gonna ask, if you’re not gay, then why  _ do  _ you always look that guy up? I  mean I know he’s funny an’ all, but he’s not  _ that  _ special. You sure do seem like you got a bit of a crush on him.” Paul clearly wasn’t looking to offend, but Eddie felt a strong desire to defend his friend anyway. He felt unnecessary anger bubble up in his chest and took a deep breath to keep it at bay. He had no reason to yell at the man that had shown him so much hospitality in the past few months. 

"I'm going to bed, Paul." Eddie got up, visibly done with the conversation and sauntered to the spare room without giving Paul a second look. 

"Aw, I’m sorry Ed, I didn’t mean anything by it.” Paul protested. Eddie didn’t look at him  as he made his way to the spare room, biting back an “it’s Eddie”

“Well, goodnight." Eddie heard Paul say. He didn't return it. 

Eddie lay awake on the bed, the covers bunched around his ankles. He was surprisingly  hot, despite the fact that it was now getting to be fall. It took all of his strength not to check his temperature for fever, his hypochondria something he’d been trying to overcome upon his separation from Myra. He checked his phone for the umpteenth time despite knowing that he hadn’t gotten any notifications. He let his eyes adjust to the dark and tried his best to make out the details of the ceiling. He went through all of the Losers in his head and remembered he had gotten all of their numbers except for Richie, who he had given his own number. And except for Stan. Eddie’s excitement dropped as he thought of Stan. He wondered what he was like outside of his letter, which he often found himself re-reading.  _ Probably the same _ , Eddie thought to himself. Another memory resurfaced at his thoughts of Stan, this one from hanging out by the quarry. 

_ That’s poison ivy, that's poison ivy, and that's poison ivy— _

_ W-What's poison ivy? Where’s the poison ivy?! _

_ — _ that’s _ poison ivy _

_ Not every fuckin' plant is poison ivy, Stanley.  _

Eddie smiled sadly, knowing that he probably wouldn’t end up texting any of his friends.  It was nearing one in the morning, after all. Suddenly his phone pinged, as if some higher being had heard his call of loneliness. With almost frightening speed, Eddie snatched his phone from the dresser. Bev. He smiled wide and quickly unlocked it. 

_ Hello everybody, it's Bev! I put all of the Losers into a group chat just so we all stay in contact(cough cough eddie) and to make sure everybody got everybody else's number(I'm lookin at you, rich). anyway, just in case, can everyone say who they are?  _

Eddie felt a great swell of emotion, startled by the heat suddenly behind his eyes. 

_ This is Eddie. Sorry Bev! Been busy with...everything. _

A couple more texts, Bill, Mike. No Richie. Eddie stayed present within the conversation a little before he eventually closed his eyes and sighed, resolving to put the phone away and try to sleep, despite the ongoing conversation within the group chat. That night, his dreams were filled with thick glasses and bright button-downs. 

Eddie awoke to the sun hitting his eyes dead-on. He blinked awake and stretched with a  groan, reaching for the nightstand that held his charging phone. He sleepily turned it on before his eyes widened with nearly paralyzing fear.  _ Ten o’clock?!  _ He shot out of the bed, stumbling on the mangled blankets at his feet, and raced to his makeshift closet, which was so far just a pull-up bar with as many suits as he could fit on it.  _ How _ could he have forgotten to set an alarm? His mind raced as he tried to recount the  events of the previous night while simultaneously trying to quickly pull on a suit without wrinkling it. He brushed his teeth and raced to the kitchen to grab his wallet and keys, almost missing the piece of paper with a barely readable message scrawled across.

_ Eddie, I noticed you weren't out of bed at your normal time so I told Michelle you would be out sick. I also wanted to apologize for last night, I didn't mean to make you storm out like that. Feel better! _

_ Paul _

Eddie released a breath he had felt like he had been holding all morning. He padded back  to the bedroom and checked his phone for the first time that morning, still settling from the shock of waking up three hours late. After sending a quick thank-you text to Paul, he checked his other notifications. He had quite a few from the group chat and one from...an unknown number. His heartbeat picked up as he studied the unsaved digits that flashed across his screen. Trying not to get his hopes too high, he took a breath and unlocked his phone calmly, opening the group chat first. He scrolled through some idle conversation before getting to what he had been hoping to see for the past two months. 

_ hey guys, it's everyone's fav trashmouth fyi, sorry for not reaching out to anyone yet, my “fans” which definitely exist thought I was addicted to drugs for a hot minute(which btw I blame mikey for) and im still trying to clean that shit up so I haven't really been able to talk _

And then;

_ Oh hey ben can i still legally call you haystack even though you have endless abs now? _

Eddie beamed down at his phone, ignoring anything in the group chat that wasn’t Richie, and clicked back to the contacts screen with the excitement of a child in an amusement park. He eagerly tapped the notification belonging to the unknown number. A stock photo of spaghetti with cartoon angry eyes drawn on it had been sent, and below that a blue text bubble that simply read “its u.” Eddie practically laughed out loud as he added the number to his contacts, not even having to double check that it was Richie. He saved the number as "Trashmouth" and contemplated putting a heart emoji next to the name before telling himself that that would be weird, forcing down the little Richie taunting him in his mind. He then composed various responses which he promptly deleted before finally settling on  _ Hey Rich, I missed you.  _ With that, he shut off his phone and his eyes, letting himself sink back into the mattress of the hastily made bed. He felt his phone vibrate not minutes later and unlocked it with unparalleled speed to read Richie's response. 

_ Spaghetti! Jesus it took me like three tries to figure out how to spell that lmao...i am a very smart person i promise, I just don’t get why it has to have an h in there. Anyway u should come visit me! LA is nice...plus im lonely out here, mike is in fl with Bill looking for places and I don't wanna get in the way of whatever Ben and Bev have going on lol...edward oh edward wont you save me? _

Eddie shot back a response almost instantly.

_ Oh so I'm your last choice? _

He got a response almost as fast as he had sent his. 

_ of course not, Eduardo!! I just know that ur a chronic workaholic and I don’t think even I could distract you long enough if I came to you lol,, plus, where are you even staying? aren't you in the middle of a divorce?  _ It read.

_ Ugh, don't remind me. I'm staying with a co-worker. It's...not ideal... _

Eddie sent with a laughing emoji. 

_ also don't call me that.  _

A few moments passed before he got a response.

_ I can pay for your flight...i will literally do anything to get you here...please eds? just consider it?  _

It was then that Eddie realized that Richie may actually be just as lonely as him. And that's how Eddie found himself requesting a two week long vacation, which his boss granted much to Eddie's joy. Yes, he hated planes, but maybe he could make an exception. After all, Richie Tozier, trashmouth, comedian, best friend, was waiting on the other end. 

  
  



	4. Well He was just Hangin’ Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie takes a vacation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last chapter that I actually have that’s completely finished, so I don’t know when 5 is gonna be up but I’m hopefully going to finish it some time this week...hope you enjoy this chapter!

Eddie took what felt like his first real breath since he began his travels as he stepped off  of the plane and into LAX. He had never actually been on a plane before, despite already having broken the age of forty, and it was just as awful as he had imagined. Even though Richie was more than happy to do so, Eddie hadn’t actually let him pay for a first-class ticket like he offered, claiming that he could “take care of himself” and “didn’t want charity just because of some divorce;” it was a decision he regretted a bit too late. Realistically, he could have paid for first class himself, but the money saving ways of his no-longer-wife were still ingrained in his brain. On his way to baggage claim, he called Richie.

“I’m never doing that again.”

“Hah! I knew you were getting a bit too far out of your comfort zone.”

“I can literally be on a plane back to New York in thirty minutes, asshole. Keep talking like that and I'll actually do it. Now send me the address, where are we meeting?” Eddie growled into the Bluetooth earpiece as he craned his neck to spot his bags. 

“I had a car sent over just to be safe, Marc will know where to go. And it’s Marc with a ‘c’ by the way.” Richie said just as Eddie found his belongings and wrestled them off of the conveyor belt, his gratitude for wireless calling doubling in the moment. 

“I don’t even know why I would need to know that. Alright, can you at least tell me  where I’m  _ going _ ? I don’t really like the idea of getting in a car and not knowing the destination, it’s creepy.” Eddie demanded as he began his trek to find Marc with a c. He was kind of surprised that Richie had a personal driver, but decided not to think much of it. Richie laughed on the other end. 

“My house, stupid. I’m not going to make you meet a semi-successful comedian in a public place after getting off a six hour flight. And don’t worry, I made sure Marc cleaned the car. I even made him use that fancy disinfectant and shit, so in case you were thinking of getting your panties in a twist, think again.” He teased with playful conviction. Eddie rolled his eyes but smiled at how much attention to detail Richie took in getting him across the country. “Are you smiling? You sound like you're smiling.” The comedian pressed, his own grin visible in his words.

“I didn’t even say anything! Also, beep beep, jerk. Hang on, I think I found Marc. I’m gonna hang up now.” Eddie blushed at the sight of his full name printed out onto a sign held by a man that looked like he belonged to the CIA. 

“‘Kay Eds, see you soon. Adios!” He heard Richie say before the call beeped, signaling its end. Eddie turned his attention shyly to Marc with a c. 

“Um hi, yes I’m Edward Kapsbrak.” The man didn’t reply, so Eddie continued. “Are you Marc? Uh, with a c?” At that, the suited man smiled and opened the back seat of the sleek black car before loading Eddie’s bags and getting into the drivers’ seat.

“Sorry about the not-so-warm welcome,” he said while adjusting the mirrors. “I gotta make sure I’m not dropping off a complete stranger on Richie’s doorstep, ya know?” Eddie nodded, ignoring the strange feeling he got hearing Richie’s name in another man’s mouth. “So, do you need or want anything? Music? Water?” Marc inquired as he began the navigation out of the drop-off and pick-up area. 

“Um, no thanks.” Eddie replied, voice small. “I feel like a secret agent or something.” He felt a nervous laugh bubble out of him, much to his own confusion. Marc only responded with a nearly imperceptible chuckle. 

Eddie decided not to speak for the rest of the ride and instead took in the California experience whipping by the tinted windows. He observed as the shops and restaurants that populated the streets were eventually replaced with large, modern-looking houses with well-groomed lawns and palm trees lining the immaculate sidewalk. The more houses they passed, the more expensive-looking and spread apart they got. Marc eventually pulled into the long driveway of a house that looked slightly smaller than many of the previous, but no less nice. The yard was well-kept and Eddie could see the corner of a pool peeking out from the back. The car slowed to a stop outside the entryway and Eddie looked up at the modern architecture. It was a strange mashup of homely and edgy, at least from the outside, and though it was an odd combination, it made for a handsome house. 

“So do I just...go in?” Eddie asked innocently, receiving another chuckle from Marc. 

“You’ll have to buzz in, but yeah, basically.” The driver got out of the car and removed Eddie’s luggage. Eddie didn’t move, the strange nervousness from before settling once again in and around him. Marc rapped a knuckle on the window that Eddie still refused to tear his eyes from. He rolled the window down, his unexplainable blush deepening as the barrier receded. 

“You need to get out of the car first if you want to do that, though.” Marc was clearly enjoying Eddie’s conflict. 

“Right.” Eddie replied pointedly, as if he really had forgotten to get out of the car and wasn’t internally freaking out. He made it up the front steps with his luggage and took a breath before taking out a handkerchief and pressing the buzzer with it between his hand and the button. Eddie noticed the glint of a security camera hidden away in a high corner of the entryway that held the large front door and shivered. Richie Tozier being famous took more getting used to than Eddie had thought. After a moment, the door flung open, revealing an excited Richie.

“Eddie Spaghetti!” He exclaimed, enveloping the smaller man in a tight hug. “Come in! Sorry, I’ve been crazy-cleaning for the past, like, two hours, so I’m still wicked hyped up.” He said, nearly breathless, as he led a shocked Eddie into the home. He was wearing a loud Hawaiian style button down with a white undershirt peaking out at the collar. Richie had new glasses, similar to the last ones, and his hair was longer, teetering dangerously close to mullet classification. The house was bigger on the inside than it let on, but the vibe was consistent in terms of decor. Homely yet alternative. Sleek. Cool. 

_ Damn, _ Eddie thought.  _ In what world is Richie Tozier  _ cool _? _

He smiled, knowing that, though he would never admit it out loud, he had actually  _ always  _ thought Richie was cool. He spotted, past the large entrance room, a bookshelf lined against a wall filled nearly to the brim with vinyls. To the left of it was an attractive love seat, signaling the start of a large living room that consisted of a larger couch, a glass coffee table, a television, and a beanbag chair. To the left of the open space that wasn’t quite part of the living room was an open kitchen with a counter and four high chairs, an island, and very nice looking appliances. That was all he could take in before Richie was taking his bags towards a fancy staircase, the kind that had gaps between the steps. Eddie continued through the house in awe, marveling at the expert decoration, a perfect balance of alternative and suave, with a color scheme that made the home feel expensive but not boastful. Richie stopped and turned suddenly to his captivated friend at the top of the stairs. 

“Eddie, gonna get real for a second, ‘kay?” He preluded, constraining his excitement. “I really am...so glad you’re here. I—I honestly don’t know how to thank you. For coming. For everything.” He said earnestly, looking into Eddie’s lost eyes. Eddie still wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, the effects of the nice house still residing, but when he was pulled into a comforting hug once more, all confusion was put aside.

“I’m not just doing this  _ for _ you, Rich.” He said, his cheek pressed into the taller man’s broad chest. “I  _ wanted _ to see you. I did since the moment we left Derry. And when you finally texted last month...holy shit dude.” Eddie pulled away but left his hands gripping the back of Richie’s colorful shirt. He realized how intimate the whole thing felt but decided to ignore it. “I mean, you can be an ass when you want to but that text made my  _ week  _ man. I um...I want nothing more than to be your best friend. At close range.” Sudden shyness taking over, he looked down at his feet and took his hands from Richie to twiddle his thumbs. “And I know that...y’know we’re different now, than we were twenty seven years ago, but that doesn’t change how I feel one bit. You make me  _ happy _ , Richie. And if that means we’ll get into arguments and have to cope with the changes we went through when we literally didn’t remember eachother, fucking sign me  _ up _ , because as long as I’m doing that shit with  _ you,  _ I’m all good.” He let the words flow freely, eventually bringing his eyes back to Richie’s. 

“I was thinking the same thing,” Richie said, barely audible. A playful glint that Eddie hadn’t even realized had left re-entered the taller man’s eyes. Eddie knew what that look meant, and felt his annoyance already bristling in his stomach. “...about your mother.” Richie finished the joke with a frat boy-like “Ohhhh!”, a full smirk now plastered on his face. Eddie flipped him his middle finger, using it as a buffer between their chests. Richie gave him a faux-surprised look. “Edward Kaspbrak, sign language like that will not be tolerated in this household!” Eddie only held his hand up higher, so it was directly in front of Richie’s face. Suddenly, in one fast motion, Richie grabbed Eddie’s hand and placed a quick, hard kiss to the middle knuckle of the extended finger. He pulled away with insurmountable speed, and, before Eddie could say anything, turned and began talking about the guest bedroom that they would soon arrive at. It was as if nothing had happened. _Maybe it_ didn’t _happen,_ Eddie thought to himself. Maybe it was some crazed jet-lag induced hallucination. No, he wouldn’t _imagine_ something like that. He could practically still feel the imprint of Richie’s lips on his hand. But now he was walking forward and following Richie and _not confronting him about it_. Eddie felt like he was going crazy and he hadn’t even been in California for over an hour.

“...for you.” Richie finished a sentence that Eddie hadn’t even realized he was speaking.  Eddie peered, bewildered, into the bedroom that would be his for the next two weeks and felt a breathy “What?” leave his lips. The room was large and  _ nice _ . Really nice. A queen bed with a metal black frame and fresh dressings flanked one wall, twin black wooden nightstands standing at its sides with an expensive looking lamp on top of one. There were high windows with white blackout curtains on the far wall and the sunlight streaming in gave the room a warm glow. The walls were an interesting shade of blue, light and open, save for the one that the head of the bed was pushed against, which served as a white accent wall. The decor was somehow simple and complex at the same time, classy, catering almost perfectly to interests that Eddie didn’t even know he had. He took in the large room, shocked to see that it connected to it’s own bathroom which, based on what he could see, was equally nice. 

“I _said_ I spent the most time cleaning this room, and I ended up practically redecorating the whole thing for you. It was kinda edgy before.” Richie replied, clearly basking in Eddie’s admiration of the room. 

“It’s  _ really  _ nice...I mean the whole  _ house  _ is nice but this is...something else, bro.” Eddie wandered into the room, abandoning his bags and all thoughts of the strange interaction that had taken place just moments before. Richie watched on from the doorway, a smile bordering on conceited decorating his lips and eyes. Eddie turned his attention to the bed, getting so close to the side that it pressed against his thighs. He touched the appropriately thin comforter on the top as if smoothing out wrinkles, the softness and  _ cleanness  _ of it sending a strange sensation up his forearms. 

“Cleaned them today,” Richie said, his growing pride evident in his voice. Eddie turned to him, his pleasant shock evident in his expression. 

“Rich, this is too much. This is...I didn’t even know you were _capable_ of making something this nice.” He said, his eyes drinking in his surroundings once more. Richie laughed. 

“I don’t know if I should be offended or if I should take that as a compliment. Eduardo,  it’s  _ fine.  _ If it makes you feel any better, you can think of it as a reward for getting through the flight.” Barely perceptible earnestness threaded his words heavy with amusement. Eddie noticed it. 

“ _ Thank  _ you, Rich.” 

“Never a problem, Eds.”

“I suppose since I’m going to be staying here for two weeks, I’m not gonna be able to avoid you calling me ‘Eds,’ huh?”

“Nope. Eds.” 

Eddie sat down on the bed and eventually allowed himself to fall on his back, practically  enveloped by the memory foam mattress. He let out a much-needed sigh and struggled out of his suit jacket, nearly sweating from the few moments he spent outside. He began smoothing out the arms of the jacket before pausing, turning towards the side of the bed, and dropping it on the floor. A little act of rebellion, the first since his marriage. He quickly picked the jacket back up and laid it out neatly on the bed, but still looked wide-eyed at a chuckling Richie, surprised at himself that he did such a wanton act. And that it had felt so  _ good _ . Like freedom, true freedom. Richie only laughed and approached the bed, urging Eddie to scooch over. 

  
They laid together in comfortable silence for what could have been fifteen minutes or an hour, the jet lag clouding Eddie’s sense of time. Richie eventually sat up, much to Eddie’s disappointment, and let his eyes wander over the sprawled out man before speaking. “So Eds. You’re finally in sunny California. What do you wanna do?” He asked playfully, Eddie’s tired eyes watching Richie’s own wandering ones. Eddie let a bare forearm, the sleeves of his shirt now rolled to the elbow, fall over his tired eyes. 

“I dunno. I wanna get out of these clothes. What time is it?”

“Sexy. Uh, almost three.”

“It feels like I should be making dinner. Time differences suck.”

Eddie felt Richie’s weight return next to him. “Do you wanna get something to eat?” He asked, but Eddie shook his head, claiming that he tries to stick to the “three large meals a day with no snacks in between” deal. He got up and stretched tiredly before unbuttoning and removing his shirt. Normally he wouldn't do something so brash and exposing, but Richie had seen him in only his underwear countless times before. Plus, he had a white t-shirt on underneath anyway. It wasn’t particularly form fitting, but it stuck to his skin where perspiration had begun to spring up. The air conditioning was nice, but the insane California heat was still alien to Eddie’s body. He wandered to his luggage, still at the door, and began looking for a cleaner, more appropriate outfit.

“Hey, do you wanna go swimming?” He heard Richie ask, his excitement about the idea evident in the question. He turned to his friend with an incredulous look, and a mischievous grin spread across the comedian’s face. Soon, Eddie found himself subject to the searing western sun. 

Eddie stood at the deep end, staring into the chlorine water, clad in only too-large green swim shorts with navy blue leaf patterns on the bottom halves of the legs. He hiked them up for what felt like the fiftieth time since he had put them on thirty minutes prior. “I can’t believe you came to California and didn’t bring a bathing suit, dipshit.” Richie said from his side, also staring into the pool’s depths. It was a nice pool, like the rest of the house, with black tiling that made it seem like an endless pit that Eddie could disappear in forever. 

“I can’t believe you're making me wear  _ yours _ .” He replied with a slight sneer. 

“Relax, drama queen, I’ve never worn them. I just got them for when these wear out.” Richie gestured to his own swim trunks, loudly colored cartoon characters from various iconic children’s shows covering every inch of them. Eddie rolled his eyes, wondering why Richie, who was technically a millionaire, only had one pair of swim trunks in use. 

“Alright, well I’m not getting in first.” He claimed with crossed arms. He knew he was being childish, but it made Richie laugh, so it didn’t really matter. Richie studied him, and it took every bit of Eddie’s mental strength not to return the gaze, because his eyes would inevitably wander to Richie’s bare chest, his arms, his legs, the light trail of black hair leading into his obnoxious swim trunks. So he continued to stare into the blue, tiled depths. 

“Fine. Spoken like a true pussy—I mean risk analyst.” 

“Beep beep, Richie.”

“Sorry. Still trying to figure out how not to be an asshole. Not having people like you around to keep me in check really fucked me up.” Richie joked. At that, Eddie turned to face Richie, despite all efforts to do the exact opposite. Big mistake. Richie had the kind of look he would get before cracking a particularly questionable joke or when he knew a prank he was about to pull would go according to plan. Suddenly, there were firm, warm hands on Eddie’s bare upper half, the feeling soon replaced with cold, biting water surrounding him completely. He struggled to the surface, one arm fervently pushing him up towards the open air, one clutching the waistband of the swim trunks, now heavier from the water. He broke the surface with a gasp, gulping in air as much as he could between sputters and an attempted “Fuck you, Richie!” as he swam to the edge where Richie stood doubled over in laughter. He hoisted himself up so he was sitting with his legs in the water, no longer as frigid as it had been when he tested it fifteen minutes before. Richie sat down beside him and mirrored his action, still shaking with laughter.   
“You’re such an asshole. Why did I ever agree to this.” Eddie said sternly, shaking his head to get his ears free of water. Richie only barked yet another laugh before saying “Watch out Eds, I can see your dick,” causing Eddie to frantically look down at his crotch, only to find it completely covered. He shoved Richie angrily, frustration only growing when Richie barely faltered from the impact. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” Eddie’s words came out ragged due to his flustered state, and Richie broke down into another fit of giggles, his nose scrunched up and his eyes pressed closed. Eddie hated how _cute_ he found it. _Wait, what? Cute? No Richie is_ not _cute. Richie is your best friend. You aren’t attracted to him that way._ Eddie felt his breath quicken, his face flush. He wished he had his inhaler. His eyes darted back and forth as he tried to assure himself that he did _not_ have feelings for the man beside him, who had stopped laughing. 

“Hey Eddie, everything alright dude? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was that bad.” He heard Richie say sincerely. Eddie closed his eyes and began the breathing exercise his new therapist had taught him. He felt the air move in and out of him, trying to regulate his erratic heartbeat. He opened his eyes.

“No, it’s okay Rich it wasn’t that, I’m fine.” He looked straight forward. _Focus on a_ _singular point in front of you._ When he didn’t get a response, he turned to see Richie looking at him cautiously, and offered a small smile. “Richie, I’m okay. Really.” Only then did Richie take his concerned eyes off him and allowed his smirk to return. He stretched his arms up overhead and made an exaggerated noise, causing Eddie to side eye him, watching his ribs come into focus and disappear when he put his arms back down. Richie then leaned back and closed his eyes, taking in the sun. Eddie took the opportunity to observe Richie’s collar bone and the dark hair that reached it, the noticeable curve of his chest muscles. It was something Eddie had never been able to achieve, a broad chest, and normally he would be annoyed that it was something Richie had without even trying, but instead he only admired it. Eddie trailed his eyes down, completely giving up on subtlety, to the bare white stomach, bordering on dad-bod but in a good way, a way that wasn’t distracting but still showed vulnerability. The dusting of dark hair leading into Richie’s swim trunk waist band...Eddie quickly looked away, his face burning, and decided that he loved Richie’s body. Aesthetically, that is. If he were a girl, he’d be interested. Richie sighed and turned his eyes to Eddie’s own body, not side-eying or attempting any discreetness like Eddie. 

“I still can’t believe I’m legit the only Loser that didn’t get hot. This is so unfair.” Richie said, a longing look coming over his eyes as he stared blatantly at Eddie’s abs. “Like, I get Bill and Bev and Mike I guess, but Haystack? What the fuck is up with that?” This got Eddie to laugh. “And even _you_ , I mean, who expected Eddie Kapsbrak to become a smoke show? You're _cut_ now, man. What the fuck.” Richie had turned back to looking across the pool, towards the garden beyond. He swished his legs in the water slowly, but Eddie barely noticed. He was too busy trying not to say or do something that would make Richie banish him from Los Angeles forever. He felt any and all words choke and die in his throat until he finally managed out “Y-you’re not so bad yourself,” which only received a sarcastic laugh from the other man.   
“Nah, you don’t have to pity-compliment me, it’s my own fault. I don’t work out enough. Basically not at _all_. I eat fine, but not great. I’m scared of tight clothes. Not to mention the fact that I’m hairy as fuck. The only thing I’ve got goin’ for me is this _dick._ ” He joked disinterestedly, adjusting his glasses. Eddie cleared his throat. He knew that it was probably blushing red, but he ignored it. 

“I can’t believe you make  _ money _ for jokes like that. Seriously, though, you uh. You’re really not bad.” Eddie said, nudging Richie’s shoulder and immediately regretting it. Eddie knew that he probably should have stopped there, but his mouth betrayed him. “Your shoulders are like, really broad. In a good way, you know? And you’re wicked tall, which is…actually pretty cool, even though you're so annoying about it. And you’ve got really nice legs, they’re long.” At this point, even Eddie wasn’t sure what he was saying, but he couldn’t seem to even slow down, nevermind stop. “And you somehow have  _ so much hair  _ even though you’ve got such a fuckin’ fivehead, which makes me... _ so _ mad. What is up with that? Why is it so thick? If you make another dick joke I  _ will  _ strangle you.” Richie barked a laugh, clearly enjoying Eddie’s rambling. “And as for the chest hair and stuff, it’s not bad. You make it work. It makes you look manly. And same with your jawline and stuff. You've got a really nice jawline. And your hands are big and like, perpetually warm, and your forearms are muscular and somehow the hair makes them even better, you just have really fuckin’ nice arms, I don’t know, and you’ve got pretty eyes and a nice nose and you really work the stubble look and you’re just...yeah.”   
Eddie felt the warmth in his neck spread up into his ears and cheeks, and he was sure Richie could see his blush. If Richie asked, he would just blame the heat of the afternoon sun. He didn’t though. He simply studied Eddie in thoughtful shock before saying “Huh. Never thought Eddie Kapsbrak would be into that kinda thing. If my self esteem is ever low I’ll know who to call.” They sat for what could have been a second or an hour, until Eddie got up, re-tying the cord holding up his swim trunks for the thousandth time that evening. The feeling of utter embarrassment wouldn’t leave his stomach, but like with every other feeling he got from being with Richie, he ignored it.

“I’m gonna go reapply sunscreen, want some?” He said awkwardly, still feeling constricted from the awkwardness of his spiel.

“Nah, I’m still good. Thanks bud.” 

“Alright, if you get sunburned—”

“I know, I know, don’t come crying to you.”

Eddie smiled and turned to get the SPF before getting an idea. He turned back around to face Richie, still sitting with his back, long and pale and surprisingly toned, to him. Eddie grinned, approaching the oblivious man and pushing hard, causing him to topple into the deep, cold blackness. Eddie laughed, running to get to the sunscreen before Richie could exact revenge. He rummaged through their clothes and towels rapidly, trying to find the sunblock as if he could use it as a weapon, but was soon enveloped in a hug-like restriction from behind by a very cold, wet Richie. He attempted to flip himself around so he could better fend off his friend, but Richie held him fast, their feet shuffling beneath them. They grappled lightly, laughing, until Eddie was facing Richie, the comedian’s hands gripping the loose waistband at Eddie’s hips. His smile faltered for a moment as he quickly pulled his hands away, but regained himself when he grabbed one of the towels from the lounge chair they were laid on and used it to ruffle Eddie’s hair, leaving it spiky and uneven. Eddie returned the “attack” by grabbing the sunscreen and swiping some onto Richie’s nose. 

“I take it you’re feeling less tired?” Richie asked, rubbing the sunblock in with squinted eyes. Eddie gave a short laugh and proceeded to rub the lotion into his arms and legs. 

“Yeah, I guess so. Still starving though. Can you get my back?” He handed the sunscreen to Richie before he got a response, but Richie only accepted it and began rubbing the lotion into Eddie’s tan back. His hands really _were_ perpetually warm and Eddie had to resist the urge to slide his eyes shut and lean into the touch. 

“Wanna go out, grab something to eat? An early dinner wouldn’t hurt.” Richie suggested, pausing almost imperceptibly before applying the sunblock to Eddie’s lower back, closer to his waistline. Eddie had to bite his lip to stop himself from saying or doing something extremely stupid, his heart rate picking up once more. He took a quick breath.

“You know what? Why not. Something casual? I don’t really want to put effort into my clothes right now.” Eddie replied. Richie slipped his hands underneath Eddie’s arms, clasping them at the smaller man’s front and settling his chin in the crook of Eddie’s neck. Eddie felt his heart rate pick up again, but this time it felt natural. Richie’s touch didn’t feel strange or like an invasion of space. Richie had always been the physically affectionate type, especially when they weren't in public, and since the defeat of Pennywise he had clearly gotten much more comfortable with touching others in affectionate ways. It was something Eddie had gotten used to as a kid and could _definitely_ get used to as an adult. He decided not to think too much about it and settled on enjoying the pleasant feeling that spread from where Richie’s skin touched him and ignored the emptiness that replaced it when Richie pulled away. 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eddie’s obliviousness even makes ME angry, and I’m the one writing this


	5. Under The Green Umbrella Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie is forced to do some reflecting in the bathroom of a Mexican restaurant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so a few things for today, 1) the title of the chapter doesn't really match the chapter itself, but i'm running out of lyrics so we'll just have to deal with it i guess, 2) this chapter is one of the longest so far, so just brace for that i guess, and 3) my editing style is gonna change a bit in this one and from now on because i'm lazy. Thats about it, enjoy

Despite his efforts, Eddie found himself thinking about Richie the whole way to the restaurant. Richie kissing his hand, Richie hugging him from behind, Richie emerging from the bathroom after showering with only a towel around his waist. That was the worst one. Eddie felt like he was violating some invisible boundary, which made him feel dirty, which is the feeling he hated most of all. The comedian was driving and was surprisingly silent, save for the few times he’d point out a store or restaurant he liked or thought Eddie would like, so Eddie was unfortunately stuck in his head for the entire car ride. Richie also hummed from time to time, usually an unidentifiable tune or a jingle from a popular commercial, and Eddie found that he loved Richie’s singing voice. It was deep and rich, and much better than he claimed. Eddie thought of one of the many interviews that he had watched in which Richie claimed to have no singing ability whatsoever.

“Fuckin’ liar,” Eddie whispered under his breath. 

“Hm?” Richie paused his humming and inclined his head towards Eddie in curiosity. 

“Nothing.” Eddie replied, his cheeks warming. He focused on the passing blur of the LA streets and thought about texting Mike. Mike would probably know what to do in a situation like this. Hell, Eddie barely even knew what the situation _was_ , but he still knew that Mike would probably have a solution. Just as he began to slip his phone out of his pocket, Richie pulled the sleek car into a small parking lot. 

“Alrighty Eddie my love, we have arrived. The last good Mexican place to survive gentrification in this part of LA.” He said in what Eddie liked to call his Baseball Announcer Voice with a closed-mouthed smile. Before moving to get out of the car, Richie looked at Eddie, eyes softening almost imperceptibly and smile widening. “Man, this is so cool. I can’t believe you’re actually here.” He said excitedly. Eddie could feel his hands begin to clam up. If he didn’t figure out what he was feeling soon, he didn’t know what he would do. Probably not something good.

“Yeah...me neither. Bro.” He replied sheepishly. Richie chuckled. 

“And you have a badass scar now! That thing healed well, dude, it’s so cool. People are gonna see us and be like ‘Ooh who is that hottie with a badass face scar hanging out with Bitchie Bozier or whatever his name is.’” The comedian said, putting on another one of his many voices and getting out of the car, circling it until he got to Eddie’s side. Eddie grimaced as Richie opened the door for him and offered him a hand. 

“I can get out myself, you know. And it’s not badass, it’s awful. I hate it.” The smaller man replied, getting up and smoothing out his shirt, a fairly bland polo that he now wished he had ironed. He touched his scar, now almost fully healed, self-consciously. Richie laughed lightly and shoved his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts. For a moment, he looked like he did in high school. Gangly, kind of awkward and goofy, but still cute. Eddie shook his head as if he could physically get the thought out of his mind.

“Dude, scars are sexy.” He said with a grin and an adjustment of his glasses. Normally, Eddie would take it as a joke, but Richie had nothing but sincerity in his eyes. Eddie pulled a face and stared at the man. 

“ _What?_ Who told you that? Scars are _not_ sexy.” He replied incredulously as he followed Richie to the front entrance of the Mexican place. 

“I think I read it in one of the Walking Dead graphic novels, actually.” Richie said as he opened the door, stepping aside courteously. Eddie would never admit it, but he loved the dynamic between him and Richie. The way they could carry a conversation while simultaneously doing other tasks. The fact that they didn’t have to have their full attention on each other in order to connect. It was nice. Familiar. He had never had friends in his adult life that worked with him the same way Richie did, and he sure as hell couldn’t connect with Myra that way. With her it was all or nothing, something that Eddie was coming to realize he didn’t actually believe in. If you truly know someone you don’t have to focus on them constantly in order to have a stable relationship. The stable relationship in question, of course, being his _friendship_ with Richie. 

“I didn’t know there were Walking Dead graphic novels.”

“How we are friends, I will never know.”

“Oh my god, Rich. And you call _me_ dramatic.”

The restaurant was small, but not cramped. The lighting was warm and the interior decorating was vibrant and welcoming. It had a friendly feel, as if everybody knew everybody else, which felt strange for a restaurant in the middle of LA. Eddie didn't think any place in the Hollywood area could feel homely, but this restaurant stood against that testament quite surprisingly.

“Arturo!” Richie exclaimed as an older man, probably around 60, emerged from the kitchen. He had kind eyes and a large smile as he returned the greeting. He and Richie seemed to be close. Eddie was surprised to find Richie carry a completely fluent conversation with the man in Spanish before introducing him. 

“ _What_ the…” Eddie muttered, too quiet to hear. 

“Arturo, this is my dear friend Eddie Kaspbrak, he came here all the way from New York. Eds, this is Arturo, he’s head chef here and quite possibly my closest friend in LA.” Eddie was too shocked by Richie’s complete understanding of another language and the fact that a chef at a Mexican restaurant was his close friend to say anything other than a small “hi.” Arturo enthusiastically greeted Eddie before saying something in Spanish to Richie, who replied in English this time. “Yeah, the one I told you about. I said I was gonna bring him here if he ever visited, didn’t I?” At this, Arturo only laughed and grabbed two menus and handed them to Richie, giving Eddie a small nod of acknowledgement before telling them that they could sit wherever they wanted. The restaurant wasn’t too crowded, only a few tables taken, so Richie happily led Eddie to one of the empty booths and gave him one of the menus. 

“This is my favorite booth, cause if I’m alone, I can always just eat with Manuel and Julio.” Richie said perkily, opening the menu. Eddie shook his head in confusion for what felt like the fifth time that afternoon. 

“ _Huh?_ ” 

Richie laughed and pointed to a small wooden decorated skeleton leaning against the sriracha bottle. “Manuel,” he raised his pointed finger to an extremely well-detailed painting of a victorious looking matador that Eddie hadn’t noticed. “Julio.” Eddie rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, overwhelmed.

“Jesus Christ Rich, I feel like I’m going insane. I...have some _questions_.” He said, for lack of better phrasing. Richie only laughed lightly, unconcerned. 

“Lay it on me, my man, you've got questions n' I've got answers.” He said, leaning back with his hands laced behind his head. Eddie huffed a breath and pulled out a small moist towelette packet which he opened and proceeded to use to wipe down the menu and table, still not fully separated from his hypochondria. Additionally, cleaning also helped him focus, which was good because he felt like he was barely literate due to the myriad of strange changes he had witnessed in the span of a few hours. When he opened his mouth, he wasn’t even sure if actual words would come out or just a garbled mess of confused sounds. “Um, well first of all, since when are you trilingual? When did that happen? _Why_ did it happen? You never knew Spanish in Derry.” Eddie rushed, almost aggressive. He was glad that he was actually coherent. Richie just chuckled and crossed his arms. 

“Well, I started learning around when I moved here, I guess. Maybe a few months in, I was like twenty three, twenty four. I was seeing this girl who was Puerto Rican and a lot of her dad’s side of the family didn’t speak much English, so I figured I’d learn it in case I ever met them. Also, I wanted to impress her and to have at least one quality that would make her dad hate me less. Then, after we broke up, I just kept learning, you know? It had become sort of a habit. Then I found this place and met Arturo, which just gave me another reason to keep learning. And so yeah, now I’m basically fluent, which is kinda cool.” 

Eddie blinked at Richie, speechless, before getting out “So...you learned an entire language to impress a girl even though you're gay, is what you’re telling me?”

Richie laughed barkingly. “Yeah, I guess it is. Wait, did you say I was trilingual? What’s the third language?” He asked genuinely, eyebrows knit. Eddie raised an eyebrow of his own. 

“French. You took it for twelve years. Dumbass.” He replied, taking his turn to cross his arms. He had to work hard to suppress a smile. Richie let out a long “oooohhhh”. 

“Right. I forgot about that, holy crap. Whoops.” He said with a snort. Eddie laughed, shaking his head and giving up any attempt at seriousness. Before he could ask another question, a waitress approached the table. Next to her nametag was a round pin with the colors of the bisexual flag(Eddie knew from late night Buzzfeed quiz excursions, often gravitating towards the silly "Am I Gay?" quizzes when he was bored. He definitely didn't take them to actually figure out his sexuality.) and one that said "I put the Panic in Hispanic." Eddie could already tell that she and Richie were probably close.

“Welcome to—oh, hey Richie.” She glanced at Eddie. “Richie’s friend. Can I get you guys some drinks?” 

“Thanks, ‘Nita, I’ll have a mango soda.” At that, the waitress looked at Richie with an annoyed expression all too familiar to Eddie.

“Rich, what have I told you? Only Abue calls me Nita, _cabrón._ Not your usual today?” She snapped playfully, receiving a laugh. Eddie ignored the strange, sour feeling that came over him in response to the interaction.

“Adrianita, language! I have guests with me! And nah, I’ve been trying to lay off the alcohol. Thanks, though.” Richie’s response was cool and collected, unlike the way he was nervously picking at his cuticles and wringing his wrists. The strange feeling in Eddie's stomach was replaced with concern at the sight of Richie's agitation. Richie gave “Adrianita” a tight smile. She only nodded before turning to Eddie. 

“I’ll uh, I’ll just have water. With a lemon.” Eddie said distractedly, preoccupied with paying attention to Richie. He waited until the waitress was out of earshot before leaning closer to the seemingly rattled man. 

“Dude, is everything okay? You look kinda…” Eddie trailed off, allowing Richie to fill in the blanks. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, it’s just harder than I expected. Quitting, I mean.” He said, a look akin to embarrassment gracing his face. He chewed his lip, looking everywhere but at Eddie. “But I’m fine, it’s all cool.” Richie said it as if he were trying to not only convince Eddie, but also himself. Eddie pursed his lips before leaning back, his concern only a little less obtrusive. “So!” Richie said a little too excitedly, his signature grin back once again. “What else did you want to know? I got all the answers, baby, ask me anything.” He looked at Eddie, who couldn’t help but smile eagerly, once again thinking about the questions he had for the new-ish Richie that sat before him. 

“Um...oh, okay, I remember. What is it with this place? Like, how come you know everyone? How come they don’t act like you’re actually famous?” Eddie whispered the last part, garnering a laugh from Richie. Eddie ignored the butterflies in his stomach that awoke every time Richie laughed. You only get butterflies if you're in love, and Eddie was _not_ in love. Richie was his best friend. He was pretty sure that it was scientifically impossible to be in love three months into a divorce, anyway.

“Well, I started coming here before I got ‘successful’ or whatever and basically just loved the vibes, you know? So I made Arturo promise not to treat me any different if I ever got rich and famous as a joke, but then it sort of actually happened, and yeah, the rest is history. They get to be friends with a famous dude and I get to not feel like a famous dude, it’s a symbiotic relationship.” He said, thanking “Adrianita,” whose real name was just Adriana, Eddie learned from her name tag, when she brought over their drinks. Eddie fought the urge to ask where exactly the water came from and if it was thoroughly purified. He looked back at Richie, amused.

“So you’re just like...friends with everyone that works here?” He asked, taking a cautionary sip of his water and relaxing when he found that it at least wasn’t tap. Richie gave him a thoughtful smile.

“Yeah, basically. Mostly Arturo, though, he’s my main man. He’s like a Hispanic Mr. Miyagi, it's great.” He said, using his shirt to twist the metal cap off the glass bottle of orange-y yellow soda. Eddie giggled. “This is fun, what else ya got?” Richie said, drumming his hands on the table and taking a sip from the bottle, not breaking eye contact. Eddie stroked his chin as if he had a long beard, not caring that it probably made him look like a middle schooler. Or just a 40 year old man that acts like a middle schooler. 

“Oh! Your personal driver. What was the deal with that? I didn’t realize you were _that_ much of a Hollywood man.” He said, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. Richie paused for a moment before bursting out into laughter.

“Oh my God, Marc with a c? He’s not my personal driver.” At Eddie’s confused expression, Richie only giggled more. Eddie had to remind himself not to completely unravel at the sight of it, irritation settling in his stomach as he told himself that he did not and would not think of Richie as _cute_. “He owed me a favor and I generally avoid crowded places, cause of the whole,” he waved his hand in an unfocused gesture, referring to his sort-or famousness, “and I didn’t wanna rope you into all that shit, so yeah. Why, did he make it seem like he worked for me?” He smiled, the familiar glint in his eyes brightening. Eddie looked at him incredulously.

“Uh, yeah bro! I actually thought you had hired him! He was dressed all fancy and everything. So he’s just, what, a friend of yours?” He replied, the strange feeling from before replacing his skepticism. He felt annoyed, but not his normal annoyed that he felt with Richie. It wasn’t playful or good-natured. For a moment, it could have been mistaken for hate. But why would he hate Marc? He barely knew the guy! Across from him, Richie chuckled, and Eddie had the dawning realization that he wasn’t annoyed or hateful, but jealous. _Extremely_ so. 

“I guess. He’s my manager’s brother. We’ve had beers together like twice, but he’s kind of boring and a bit of an asshole.” Richie said with a laugh, seeming to remember a moment in which Marc had proved his status of assholery. The explanation should have eased some of Eddie’s jealousy, but it didn’t. The way he had smiled when he said it, the way he laughed while muttering “Marc with a c” and shook his head like he should’ve expected this from the guy, it only made the feeling rooted in Eddie’s stomach grow. Richie didn’t notice his grimace. “We should figure out what we’re gonna order, dude, I’m getting hungry. Oh wait, but first _I_ have a question for _you_.” He said with a grin, leaning his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers together so he could rest his chin on them. Eddie cocked his head in curiosity before grabbing his drink. “I know, how the turn tables.” Richie responded to Eddie’s curious look. “Ok, the question is: what’s with all this ‘dude’ and ‘bro’ stuff? You never used to call me dude or bro, and I gotta admit, it’s a little weird.” Eddie paused mid-sip before swallowing and putting the class down. 

“What’s so weird about it? You call me dude all the time.” He said, an accusatory edge detailing his words. Richie shrugged.

“I’ve always called everybody dude since, like, high school. That’s just how I talk. You never talked that way until the Jade. I’m just asking what changed.” He said almost softly. Eddie opened his menu and scanned through the items without actually reading them. 

“I dunno, it’s been 27 years, man. People change.” He mumbled despite knowing for a fact that he wasn’t _really_ a person that says “dude” and “bro.” Especially to people as close to him as Richie, who snorted.

“Okay, and? I learned Spanish, you call me bro now, things change, I get that. I’m just asking _why_. You never called the other Losers dude or bro at the Jade or literally any other time, so when you call me those things it feels kinda...forced.” Eddie could feel his neck warming with shame and found himself devising ways to get out of the situation. 

“I think I’ll get the vegetarian fajita meal,” he deterred, avoiding Richie’s watchful eyes. Out of his peripheral vision he could see the comedian raise his eyebrows. Eddie knew he was being annoying, but he had no intention of stopping until Richie let up. 

“Good choice. Why are you being so weird about this, Eds?” Richie drew his eyebrows together, studying Eddie, who set down his menu angrily and rubbed his eyes in frustration.

“Look man, I don’t know, okay? Why are you so hung up on this? I need to wash my hands.” Eddie snapped, swiftly getting up from the booth and locating the bathrooms.

Quickly locking himself in a stall and thanking a God he didn’t believe in that nobody else was in the bathroom, he took out his phone and shakily dialed Mike’s number. “C’mon,” he urged the ringing phone while chewing his lip. “Pick _up_ , Mikey,” he pleaded. Finally, after five rings, Mike’s voice came out of the device. Eddie sent another silent thank you to the invisible man in the sky. 

“Eddie my man, how’s sunny Californ-i-a?” Mike asked enthusiastically. Eddie nearly smiled, but his stress and cynicism still held the reigns of his emotions and argued that there was nobody there to smile for, so he didn’t. 

“Yeah, hey Mike, it’s good; look I’m in the bathroom of a restaurant that Richie took me to and I’m freaking the _fuck_ out.” He rushed, not bothering to ask how Mike was doing. He would probably kick himself later for that. Mike didn’t seem to mind.

“Woah woah woah buddy, what’s going on? What happened?” The other Loser replied with concern. Eddie once again felt the familiar urge to reach into his pocket and dig out an inhaler that wasn’t there. Another memory weaved its way through his mind, this one crashing through rather than floating to the surface of his thoughts.

_Give it back asshole!_

_C’mon Eds, I’m just gonna try it, no harm done._

_That’s my_ inhaler _, douche wad, it’s not something you can just_ try out. _It’s prescribed medicine and it’s expensive!_

_Holy shit, it tastes like battery acid. I’d rather just have asthma than have to take this every time I cough._

_I hate you._

_Love you too, Eddie my darling._

Eddie sucked in a quick breath before responding.

“Richie kissed me.” He said shortly. A part of him knew that he was being vague and that it was a shitty move, but he didn’t care. He was practically having a full blown panic attack after all, there were worse things to worry about than the way he worded things. 

“Woah, what? On the lips?” Mike asked almost urgently. The shock in his voice snapped Eddie back to reality, out of the daze the random memory had flung him into.

“No, no, on the hand.”

“Oh. Eddie, he used to do stuff like that all the time. I don’t mean to be um, _blunt_ , but I don’t really see the big deal.” 

Eddie tried to pace, but the small confines of the stall only let him turn in awkward circles. He started to feel like the walls were closing in on him. Running a nervous hand through his hair, he tried to formulate a coherent response that would get his point across. Which would be easy, if he actually knew what his point was. “Right but...look, he...Mike, I don’t... _fuck_!” He babbled, unsuccessful. 

“What happened, everything okay?” Mike returned to sounding like a protective parent, causing Eddie to scrub at his eyes in exasperation with his free hand.

“Yes, everything’s fine, I just can’t fucking think in this stall.” He jabbed, angry at himself more than Mike.

“Ok, look, Eddie, listen to me,” Mike asserted calmly. “I need you to take a few deep breaths, okay? Just breathe until you can tell me what’s going on.” His voice was soft and for a moment Eddie felt another sour wave of jealousy wash over him. Why couldn’t he be like Mike; calm, cool, collected at all times, never selfish but never neglecting his own needs. Then Eddie remembered that Mike was not, in fact, always like that and the jealousy evaporated. 

“I guess...it’s just that Richie seems to really be getting himself together. And like, I’m _not_ , you know? Richie basically had a public meltdown and he’s doing better than me. He’s just so comfortable with who he is and stuff and it’s just kind of scary I guess. Like, if I can’t get my shit together now, what if I never do? What if this is it, you know?” He confessed, not even realizing that he had been thinking things like that. He heard Mike take a soft breath. 

“Eddie, you can’t think like that buddy. For two major reasons,” Mike cut Eddie off before he could say “ _T_ _hat’s not real advice, Mike”._ “One is that you’re literally in the middle of a divorce to a woman you’ve been with for nearly half your life. Of course you’re not going to be all together, so don’t hold yourself to a standard that doesn’t exist. Second is that you don’t actually know all that stuff about Richie. I hate to say it, but even though you guys are close, you still don’t necessarily know the whole story. So don’t assume you do, ‘cause that can just make everything ten times worse, you know?” Mike finished with an encouraging tone. Eddie paused before nodding despite the fact that Mike couldn’t see him through the phone.

“Uh yeah, yeah I guess you’re right. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--I’m sorry, Mike,”

“Eddie. It’s fine. You should probably get out of the bathroom, though, Richie might start to worry.” Mike’s knowing smile could practically be heard in his voice. Eddie nodded and gave a half-hearted huff of a laugh.

“Thanks for putting up with me.” He said, his panic already starting to drain out of him. “See you around, Mikey.” 

“Alright, Eddie, good luck. Call me or Bill later if you want! Bye, bud.” With that and a small electronic beep, the call ended. Eddie took a breath and opened the stall door triumphantly, marching past the sinks before he could remember to wash his hands. When he got to the booth, Richie already had a meal in front of him untouched, chips and guacamole and salsa laid out in the middle of the table. Richie quickly shut off his phone and pocketed, the content of the screen evading Eddie’s eyes. Eddie sat down quietly and avoided Richie’s eyes, noticing but ignoring the comedian’s mischievous smirk that had placed itself on his lips.

“Look man,” Eddie started, an embarrassed blush creeping its way up his neck. “I don’t know why I call you stuff like that. I don’t even like talking like that, but it’s like someone is making me do it, like if I don’t throw in a ‘dude’ or a ‘bro’ I’m a...I’m crossing a boundary or something. I’m sorry for storming out.” He could only bring himself to look at the man across the table after he got out the full apology. Richie only chuckled and stayed infuriatingly silent, nearly prompting Eddie to yell at him again, until he finally spoke up.

“You don’t have to apologize, Eddie my darling. I’m sorry for pushing, I should have stopped asking when you started to get uncomfortable.” He said, delivering the first sentence in an intoxicatingly posh British accent. Eddie smiled in thanks before looking down at Richie’s plate in confusion. “Oh right,” Richie said, noting the silent question. “I already ordered, yours is just gonna take a little longer.” He explained, taking a swig from his brightly colored soda. Eddie nodded and slid his own drink toward him until he was looking down into the swirling ice, still slightly embarrassed from walking out on his friend. “Dude,” he heard Richie say pointedly. When he looked at him, the man was leaning on one of his fists, his elbow on the table. _No manners,_ Eddie thought fondly. “You need to fuckin...take a breath or something, you shouldn’t be all tense when you’re on vacation with the coolest guy to ever live.” He said plainly, eyebrows raised. Eddie laughed softly and began to take a sip of his lemon water. Richie perked up like he realized something important or interesting.

“Oh my God, Eds, you need to get laid!” 

Eddie choked on his drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you can't tell, I know nothing about California...also, I have yet to finish chapter 6, so the wait for that may be a bit longer than with what i've posted so far, sorry about that lol


	6. Then He Fell in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie does not like confrontation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, I stayed up late and churned this bad boy out in the wee hours of the morning. I was feeling creative I guess idk. This one’s shorter and a lil sexier, a lil more electric than the last ones, but nothing too intense. Enjoy :D

“I know you may think so _Richard_ , but you can’t just say shit like that!” Eddie spat. He was arguing in the car ride back to Richie’s house. Richie, who couldn’t stop laughing. “No! You’re not allowed to laugh, asshole! That’s so fucked up!” Eddie angrily gesticulated with his hands before folding his arms defiantly. Richie was practically crying at that point. When he finally got his bearings enough to speak, his voice cracked more than it did when they were teenagers. 

“Oh my god Eds, stop, I’m going to get into a car crash!” He pleaded, breaking down into another fit of giggles. Eddie stayed silent other than a grumble of “don’t call me that” so that Richie could actually focus on calming down. After a few desperate gulps of air the unhinged man finally managed to steady his voice. “Look Eddie, I just calls ‘em like I sees ‘em, and what I sees is a man that is still stressed even though he’s on vacation, which can only mean one thing.”

“That the man is going through a very tedious and grueling divorce from a woman who is physically incapable of cooperating?”

“That the man needs some bedroom action! When’s the last time you had sex?” At this, Eddie nearly threatened to get out of the car to walk the rest of the way to Richie’s house. Part of him wanted to shriek wildly or perhaps jump off of a bridge. Anything to not be a part of this conversation anymore. But instead, his stupid mouth made decisions before his brain gave the OK and he ended up saying “I’m not answering that question,” with a frustrated glare. Richie sucked in an audible breath. 

“That long? Damn dude, this may be worse than I thought.” He said, making an exaggerated expression and glancing at Eddie with that ever insistent playful glint in his eye. Eddie refused to look at him. 

“Not everything is about sex, Richie.” He said flatly, getting a dry chuckle in return. Pulling into his driveway, Richie parked the car and unbuckled his seatbelt only to turn to Eddie instead of exiting the vehicle. He had an unreadable look on his face. Eddie chewed the inside of his good cheek and stared back, itching to get out of the car, get to a place where he wouldn’t be forced to look into Richie’s eyes. 

“I didn’t say that. But I’m saying that _this_ probably is.” The man said, his voice taking on a softer, more serious tone. Eddie didn’t like it. Eddie wished Richie was joking. 

“Yeah, well even if it is, I don’t wanna talk about it. Especially not with  _ you _ .” He said stubbornly, once again averting his eyes. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t notice the look of hurt that momentarily crossed his friend’s face, but he didn’t have to bring it up. Didn’t have to apologize. Richie huffed a laugh, suddenly humorless. The transition was jarring and the air in the car had changed. It was charged in a new way. Eddie was no longer comfortably uncomfortable, but was  _ actually _ uncomfortable. Because deep down he knew Richie was right. Even though it seemed silly from a distance, Eddie was majorly lacking in that department. Romance, intimacy, passion. Sex. It was all tied together, and the more they talked about it the more he was reminded of the deficit that he had forced upon himself. Perhaps that’s why Eddie had been feeling the way he was feeling around Richie. The awful concoction of sort-of-want and possibly-love and almost-lust that he had felt since Derry was nothing but the product of desperation and loneliness. Likely brought on by years of being trapped in a loveless and borderline abusive marriage, he reasoned.

“Fine. I get it. But you should talk to  _ someone _ about it. Fuckin...get a therapist or something dude, this is important shit.” Richie grabbed the bag of leftovers from the restaurant and got out of the car, his playful intonation returning gradually. The unpleasantness began to recede, much to Eddie’s gratification. He pursed his lips thoughtfully before getting out of the car as well, following Richie to the door. “They get a bad rep in, like, media and stuff but like…I honestly don’t know where I’d be without mine, Stacy’s great.” They entered, Richie setting the bag on a counter after making his way to the kitchen and padding his way to the bathroom nearby. 

“I  _ have _ a therapist, asshole.” Eddie said loud enough for Richie to hear through the door, leaning against the wall next to it. Then, quieter, “And maybe I will.” As Eddie thought about it, the more confused about the prospect he felt. Could he really talk about that kind of thing with his therapist?  _ What more is a therapist than a stranger with good advice _ , he thought to himself. Could he tell a stranger about the problems he’d had with... _ sex _ ? He may be forty, but Eddie still got a bad taste in his mouth at even the thought of the word, of the  _ act _ , as if he were twelve years old and learning about it for the first time again. Richie emerged from the bathroom, a light smirk plastered on his face. 

“Good. Maybe after you’ll be less of a hard-ass.” He sauntered casually back into the kitchen to put the food away, his smile unwavering, even when Eddie called him asshole for the millionth time that day. Despite the banter, Eddie strained to see if Richie was showing his real self, thinking back to what Mike had said. Was Richie really okay? Did he actually have his shit together, or was it a ruse, an act? Was he writing his own material, figuratively? Eddie chewed his lip and mustered what bravery he had before addressing the stand up comic.

“Hey Rich?” He managed. Richie looked at him and leaned against the counter, gripping the edge with his fingertips.

“Yeah, Spaghetti?” He replied curiously, his smile gone from his mouth but still present in his eyes. 

“Um...is everything...are you doing alright?” Eddie forced out, peering up at Richie as if he were nine feet tall. There was a considerable amount of space between them and Eddie didn’t know if he wanted to add more or get rid of it completely. Eddie banished the thought from his mind, breath hitching at the idea of having an idea like that. Richie laughed shortly. 

“Yeah man, why wouldn’t I be?” He studied Eddie right back, his eyes trailing up and down Eddie’s figure momentarily. 

“I mean…I dunno, we fought and defeated a clown demon from outer space that eats children for a living. Not everybody can just get okay after shit like that.” He explained, copying Richie’s counter lean on his side. Richie seemed to consider this before brightening. 

“Oh! Well I’ve gone three full days not including today, though this will be the fourth, without crying about Stan, which is a new record, hold the applause, and in the past five days I’ve gotten at least seven hours of sleep every night, which is  _ also _ a new record!” He presented victoriously. “And I haven’t forgotten to take my meds in the past three months, which is cool, and I get to hang out with my best friend for like two whole weeks, which is also pretty damn cool, and my nightmares have been getting less intense lately, so triple cool.” He grinned proudly like a fourth grader presenting a science fair project that he had worked extra hard on. Eddie smiled down at his feet, cheeks warming, when a sudden thought struck him. His smile dimmed til it was gone and he continued to stare at the floor. 

“You wouldn’t rather hang out with Marc with a c?” He mumbled under his breath, the jealousy from the restaurant tinging his thoughts. 

“What?”

Eddie looked up at Richie now, the man’s brow furrowed. “I _said_ , you wouldn’t rather be with Marc with a c?” His tone was on the verge of accusatory as he met Richie’s eyes. 

“W—uh, I don’t...oh my god, Eddie, are you jealous?” Richie gave a disbelieving laugh before looking at Eddie for a few seconds and laughing again. Running a hand through his wildly unstyled hair, Richie shook his head with a smile on his face. Eddie blushed angrily and folded his arms, looking to and from Richie in embarrassment, not sure if he could face him. “Eddie my love, you don’t need to be jealous of him! Just because I slept with a guy a few times doesn’t mean I wanna spend all my time with him. Like I said anyway, he’s boring and can be pretty insensitive. I’d rather hang out with my childhood best friend than a dude I don’t really relate to much that I think is an asshole, don’t be silly.” Richie said, crossing the kitchen and joining Eddie at his counter. Eddie looked at him, shock cascading through his body, swiftly replacing his jealousy. 

“You uh...you and Marc…?” Eddie couldn’t bring himself to ask the full question. Richie raised his eyebrows unenthusiastically at him, smiling slightly. 

“Fucked? Yeah. Like, twice. The first time I was drunk and the second I was sad, don’t patronize me.” He said with a hearty chuckle before looking at Eddie with sharp eyes, tracing his face thoughtfully. Richie’s eyes were more blue than Eddie remembered, and he unfortunately found himself easily lost in the icy irises. “That’s what I meant when I said we got beers, sorry if that wasn’t clear.” He replied, his voice taking on a new, lower cadence. A soft tone that Eddie rarely heard Richie use when they were younger. He shivered slightly, feeling oddly naked under Richie’s attentive gaze. Metaphorically speaking, of course. There was palpable tension between himself and Richie now, the closeness of them creating some sort of friction in the air. The way their shoulders almost touched, the way Eddie had to slightly tilt his head upwards to meet Richie’s eyes, the way Richie’s stubbled jaw stood out sharply against the pale skin of his neck, it all created a sort of energy that was neither negative nor positive, good nor evil. It was simply there, and Eddie couldn’t say he didn’t like it, but it was strange enough that he wanted it to go away. Eager to move on, Eddie smirked. 

“Dude, when is the last time you cut your hair. You’re moving dangerously close to Bowers’ mullet zone.” He said, focusing on Richie’s wavy curls. He would never admit out loud that he liked the length and style. It wasn’t  _ actually  _ a mullet, but it was longer than when they were kids. It suited him. The taller man put a hand on his chest and gasped in mock offense. 

“Edward Kaspbrak, we do _not_ use the B word in this household!” He said, scandalized. Eddie laughed. 

“What even happened to him? You never moved the body, did you?” He asked, hoping he wasn’t crossing any boundaries or setting off any triggers for Richie. Thankfully, the man just shook his head. 

“Mike said that when he and Bill went to look for it, the body was gone and the hatchet was clean, no blood, no clothes, nothing. I’ve decided to just not think about it.” He said with a shrug. “Hey, wanna watch a movie?” He said, clearly no longer interested in standing around in an empty kitchen talking about dead psychopaths. Eddie nodded perkily, glad that all weird energy had since dissipated, and followed Richie to the living area. 

As they watched the movie, an action-comedy that they both agreed looked good after a good amount of time squabbling over what to watch, Eddie found himself observing Richie, curled up on the other end of the couch. It became so distracting at points that Eddie would stop paying attention to the movie completely, only to snap back to reality at the sound of Richie’s laugh. More than once Eddie found himself wiping sweaty palms on his sweatpants, his choice of pajama bottoms for that night, and chewing his lip or inner cheek absentmindedly. At some points, he would look at Richie and feel like his whole body was on fire, and at others he would feel like merely looking at Richie was a sin. Or the atheist’s equivalent of a sin at least. Eddie chalked it all up to jet lag.  
  
By the end of the movie, Eddie just wanted to go to bed. Perhaps in the morning his head and heart would have sorted themselves out and he could just move on from the whole thing. Except, contrary to what he wished for, when his head hit the pillow, he could do anything but sleep. And there, at night, alone in the dark, his mind took some liberties in the thoughts that it produced, presenting Eddie with mental images that he wouldn’t dare to think of in the day time.  
  
It started off like what he had been thinking about in the car ride, Richie kissing him, calling him pet names, standing triumphantly above him in nothing but brightly colored swim trunks. But then the thoughts began to diversify, developing into scenarios that hadn’t even happened. Eddie’s back against the wall, Richie leaning his hand right by his head, looking him up and down hungrily. Richie’s hands on Eddie, on his skin, feeling his muscles, his bones, knotting a hand in his hair. Eddie doing the same to Richie. Richie licking his lips, lightning fast, but not fast enough that Eddie didn’t notice, before leaning in and closing the space between them. Eddie opened his eyes with a gasp, all thoughts receding to the background. Eddie felt sick, but not a bad sick. A funny kind of sick, lodged in his throat, blooming in his chest, thrumming incessantly under his skin. The kind of sick you feel when you think about kissing your best friend. Eddie pursed his lips and turned on his side, eventually falling prey to the clutches of a restless sleep. 


	7. And He Didn’t Know How

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie begins to realize that he can’t run from himself forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this goes from heavy scandalousness to a weird combo of domesticity and existential dread really fast, so just an fyi if u don’t wanna read the sexy stuff...enjoy :P

Eddie never liked waking up hard. He knew logically that more often than not it wasn’t a sexual thing, but he felt kind of gross every time nonetheless. Eddie had two categories in the “waking up with a boner” file that was tucked away in his mind: the first was morning wood. That was the normal kind, purely existing for purposes of good blood circulation. Eddie always felt less bad about that, knowing it was just a sign of healthy blood flow. Usually he could tell when this was the case by noticing the immediate lack of shame set in his bones. Shame something that was deeply entwined with anything remotely sexual for Eddie. He figured that, like with most of his problems, he could blame it on the way he was raised. Which leads to the second category. Waking up _hard_ . This was different than morning wood because it was _not_ the product of good blood flow circulation, but particularly…passionate thoughts and dreams from throughout the night. This was different because every time it happened, Eddie felt immeasurable guilt for a crime, a _sin_ he didn’t commit. And this didn’t naturally go away with the help of a cold shower like morning wood. This was persistent, seeking Eddie’s attention, or at least that of his hand. Getting that feeling wasn’t something Eddie enjoyed normally in the morning, but getting that feeling after thinking about Richie Tozier the whole night was a whole new level of bad. So that’s how he found himself angrily padding to the guest bathroom and turning on the water with a little too much force, still half asleep, still completely hard. 

Eddie lasted less than thirty seconds under the cold spray of water before he could no longer take the biting chill. Grumbling to himself, he turned on the hot water, exhaling deeply when the temperature transitioned smoothly from freezing to pleasantly warm. It wasn’t that Eddie couldn’t handle cold showers; he could, and he took them regularly for their reported healthful properties like good skin hydration. It was just that his body wanted different things than his mind, and Eddie was too tired to fight back. Eddie had thought a lot about masturbation in the past, often only partaking late at night or early in the morning in the shower after a particularly graphic dream or fantasy. Eddie would always feel the guilt wash through him, even just thinking about it, but he would always try to argue that it was a normal thing to do. Now, groggy and horny and angry with himself and the world, Eddie knew that the guilt would be bad. Now that the man that had always been present in his less pure thoughts had the identity, the face of his best friend, he knew that he may never forgive himself for this. For palming himself in the shower not far from the man in his fantasies, probably still asleep, with one hand flat against a tiled wall of the shower to help brace his body as he trembled with forbidden pleasure. Never forgive himself for muttering _Richie_ over and over under his breath, eyes screwed shut as he envisioned the man, his body, what it would feel like against Eddie’s own. The guilt nearly came before Eddie did, nauseating and accusatory. A surprising abundance of self-hating thoughts arose in his mind, angrily bombarding him like an aircraft dropping shells. He felt like he was going to throw up, or perhaps pass out. Instead, he silently and quickly washed himself, not wanting to waste any more water than he already had, and continued his morning routine as if nothing happened. It was early, before seven, but Eddie knew that he wouldn’t be getting to sleep. He also knew that what started out as a small distraction was turning into a big problem. This wasn’t something he could ignore, like the times he fooled around in college, or found himself staring a little too long at the hotel bartender on a business trip, or paid closer attention to the male contestants on stupid, pointless reality shows than he’d ever admit out loud. Those occurrences went away, were fleeting, rare. It may have taken a long time, but he eventually stopped stressing over them. But this…he needed to talk to someone about this. After sitting down on the bed, now made neatly, Eddie ran a hand through his hair. Perhaps not about _this_ , but definitely about one of the many problems Eddie was slowly becoming forced to face as his divorce became more official. Nodding to himself, he grabbed his phone and shot a text to Beverly, asking if she was free. Minutes later, the phone vibrated in his hand, her icon smiling up at him. 

"Hey Bev," he said quietly, knowing that he couldn't wake Richie from two rooms away even if he tried but still automatically dimming his voice. 

"Hey Eddie!" She returned brightly, her smile heard through the phone. “What’s shakin’, bacon?” She asked, the distant sound of drinks being poured coming through to Eddie’s side. 

“Oh uh...if you’re busy, we can talk later.” Eddie offered. 

“No, dummy, I called you! Plus, it must be pretty bad if you’re calling me at—what is it over there?—at six thirty in the morning.” She said through a mouthful of something. “Sorry, I’m making breakfast and these grapes are quite possibly the best of any fruit I’ve ever had.” This got Eddie to chuckle before returning to silence. He wasn't going to admit it out loud, but now that he had Beverly on the phone he didn't really know what to talk about. "So what's up hon, everything okay? Okay in L.A.?" She asked, laughing lightly at her own rhyme. Eddie heard a man laugh as well, and realized that she and Ben were probably together. 

"Um yeah, everything is cool, are you alone?" He rushed despite knowing that she wasn't. He chewed his lip nervously, though he didn't know what he was nervous about. He couldn't say the feeling wasn't familiar. Beverly made a small noise similar to a "hm," high and sing-songy. 

"I'm with Ben, but I can go into another room if you want." She said, already alerting Ben that she would step out for a moment. Eddie smiled to himself. At least Beverly was happy. "Ok babe, what's up, you're starting to make me nervous." She said, cheeriness beginning to mix with concern. Eddie continued to chew his lip again before answering. 

"I'm uh...I said some things...to Richie, I mean. And the way that I put them wasn't really thought out because he was just making me so fucking _mad_. And now I'm just…I'm kind of afraid I might be like...I don't know. Part of me thinks like, has what I said changed our dynamic? You know, what if he doesn't look at me the same way? I don't want things to change." Eddie said, surprising himself and Bev, judging from the way she paused before responding. 

"Well, what did you say?" She asked cautiously. Eddie rubbed his eyes in something related to shame. 

"I just...he was being an asshole about himself and I sort of just told him that like...he also got hot, you know? But I may have taken it a little far because I felt like if I didn't he wouldn't get it through his thick fucking skull that he doesn’t need to compare himself to anybody and that he’s handsome, he’s a handsome guy! That’s just how it is! He kept saying shit like 'aw I can't believe all the Losers became all sexy except me'," Eddie said, deepening his voice to imitate Richie in a way that made Bev snort, "and shit like that, and I just...it makes me so mad when he says that kind of bullshit because he's been that way since we were kids and it’s...it’s...it's just not fucking true!" Eddie finished loudly, nearly out of breath from working himself up. He heard Beverly laugh lightly on the other end, only making him more flustered. "Stop laughing! What are you laughing at? This could be an actual problem! What if I'm leading him on?" He asked frantically. Bev stopped laughing and the air around Eddie changed as he admitted his true worries out loud. It hadn't even been something he had considered until it came out of his mouth. What if Richie liked him? 

"Eddie, if that's what you think, then you should probably talk to him. Or figure out your own feelings first." Bev said knowingly. Eddie scoffed. 

"What do you mean 'figure out my own feelings first'?" He grumbled, dragging a hand through his still-wet hair. Whatever she meant, he already knew he didn't like it. 

"I _mean_ you can't just tell people this stuff and expect them to fix it for you," Bev said. Eddie opened his mouth to protest, but she continued before he could. "I know you don't want it to be, but this is a _you_ problem through and through. I can't tell you what you're feeling or what Richie's feeling just like you can't tell yourself what Richie's feeling. Only you know your emotions and only he knows his, and that's just the facts babe. I hate to say it, but you have to face this on your own." She explained. Eddie detected a strange undertone in her words, like she knew something he didn't, but he ignored it. Instead, he cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed. 

"I um…I know…I'm sorry. I just...I know what it's like. To think someone else has feelings for you only to be let down. And it sucks, you know? And he's my best friend, I would hate if I did that to him. I don't know if I could forgive myself." He said softly, more to himself than Beverly. 

"You don't have to apologize, hon, you just have to deal with it. And I mean that with only love in my heart." She said, her smile visible in her voice. Eddie smiled back before realizing another question he'd had on his mind, one that had been around for much longer than the previous. Eddie cleared his throat again, debating whether or not to ask it. Bev, somehow always knowing when Eddie was pondering, spoke up. "What is it, Eds?" She asked, her voice the auditory equivalent of raising an eyebrow. Eddie psyched himself up, remembering Richie's words from the cistern. _You're braver than you think._

"Um…this is purely hypothetical," (it wasn't,) "and I'm not even asking for myself, I'm asking for a friend," (he wasn't,) "but uh…say a guy fools around in college...with other guys, but only 'cause he thought that was something most people did. Would that make him gay? Even...even if it was _only_ in college?" He said it quickly, sharply, as if the words were poison on his tongue. He knew that Bev saw through his bullshit like it was the cleanest window in the world, but he also knew that she knew he wasn't ready to be called out for it. Beverly laughed lightly.

"Well I don't think it makes him straight, but if he was only feeling and doing those things in college and no longer has interest in them, then he's probably just moved on. Not from like, his sexuality or whatever, you can't move on from that, but he's probably found someone or something that makes him happy, even if it's not in line with what he did in college." She said, always leaving Eddie in awe of her wisdom. He was beginning to believe that Beverly Marsh was the only person who knew the answers to the secrets of the universe. "But either way he's probably not straight, it just doesn't work that way. And he's _definitely_ not straight if he's feeling that way again, even after thinking he was straight for a while." She added, further proving that she knew more than she let on. Eddie nodded. 

"Yeah, okay. Okay. That's okay. Thank you," He said, stress simmering. Bev made another noise of indication. 

"Alright honey, I've gotta go eat breakfast now, but if you need anything you can text me." She said. 

"Can you—"

"Except for making all your problems go away, you have to do that yourself my good man." She said with a laugh that Eddie returned. He was glad to joke but not so content to hang up. Then he'd be alone. In his head. 

"Alright Bevvy, love you. Thanks. For everything." He said earnestly. 

"Not a problem, my friend. Bye Eddie. Don't have too much fun without us!" She said cheerily. The call clicked shut and Eddie was alone once more. Frustrated with himself, he fell back onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling as if it held the answers. So Eddie wasn't straight. He could deal with that. He could even go so far as saying that he was gay. A gay man. But that left the troubling thought that if he were gay and he had been having… _those_ thoughts about Richie, about his _best friend_ , then that would mean…Eddie covered his face in his hands. He could _not_ be in love with Richie. Perhaps it was that he was the only person that he had enjoyed spending time with in the last three months. Perhaps it was that Richie was a sufficient distraction from the dumpster fire that was masquerading as Eddie's divorce. Perhaps it was something else entirely, but either way Eddie could not be in love with Richie. He wouldn't allow it. If Eddie was in love with Richie, he could risk ruining their friendship. Their friendship that kept him going, that made him feel alive and good and worthwhile. Even if Eddie didn't want to face his feelings, he did realize that his relationship with Richie was different from his relationship with the other Losers. The others were his best friends, no doubt, but for Richie…he _lived_ for Richie. And he couldn't live without him. The day before had been more fun and enjoyable and simply _better_ than twelve years of marriage simply because Richie was there. Eddie knew this. Eddie accepted this. But if he lost it because he wanted to get into Richie's pants or something, then he would also lose a part of himself, and part of him knew that he didn't deserve that. Eddie didn't power through years of trauma just to lose the one thing that helped him along. Eddie's eyes slid shut as his mind raced. He thought of Richie, Bev, Stan. What would Stan say? Probably to get over himself and do the right thing. Go with his gut. What would Richie say? What would Richie _do_? As all of these thoughts grappled and twisted in Eddie's mind, he once again drifted into a deep slumber. 

It wasn't until Eddie heard music that he even realized he was asleep. It was a heavy beat and it came from downstairs. _Richie,_ Eddie thought with an appreciative groan as he checked the time. Just past nine o'clock. Eddie, already dressed, swiftly made his way downstairs to find Richie in the kitchen, head bobbing to the music and making...something. The music was coming out of a small speaker set next to a pile of eggshells, causing Eddie to wrinkle his nose. 

"Oh hey, Eds! Top o' the morning to ya," He said over the music in a thick and probably very bad Irish accent. Eddie offered a sleepy "hey" in return as he tried to figure out what Richie was making. After a few moments, he concluded it was a very messy attempt at pancakes. There was an unfortunate amount of rice flour(Eddie noted from the bag set at a jaunty angle on the counter) dusting most surfaces. Eddie couldn't help but blush at the fact that Richie had gotten a gluten free alternative just because of him, and he knew for a fact that that's what happened because there was no way in hell that he just happened to have rice flour on him. Eddie wasn't entirely sure if he had regular flour. As Richie happily sang to the music, Eddie had a flash of memory resurface. Of the song. The first time he ever heard it. He was seventeen, Richie eighteen, and he was leaving Derry in a few weeks. Richie had invited him over his house to share his new album with him, something from a band neither had ever heard of. 

_I just thought it seemed cool. I've listened to the whole album twice already._

_And you just bought it yesterday?_

_Yeah man, literally none of the songs are bad!_

_I can't even tell what this one's about. 'Birdhouse in your soul'? What does that even mean?_

_It doesn't matter! That's the thing! What's so great is that you don't have to know what they're talking about to enjoy it! I feel like one day these guys are gonna be big, I can just see it._

As Eddie remembered the evening that felt like so long ago, he realized that that was the last album Richie had ever listened to with him. It was the last time he slept over Richie's house. Until, of course, today. He felt something in his chest tighten and remembered the conversation he had just had with Beverly. Eddie groaned audibly and Richie laughed. He had been hoping that it had all been a jet lag induced hallucination, but no. His feelings were there and they were real and it made him mad. 

"Sleep alright? I heard you get up at like six," Richie said, mixing the ingredients together clearly not bothering to keep all the contents in the bowl as more flour made its way over the sides. For a moment Eddie had the awful, sickening thought that if Richie heard him get up, then did that mean he…no, Richie couldn't have. He was two rooms over! Plus the water was running, and it's not like Eddie had made any noise. "Glad to see you got more sleep though." He peered up at Eddie, glasses sliding slightly down his nose, which like everything else, had a bit of flour on it. Eddie looked at the attempted cook disapprovingly, making his way over and fixing his glasses for him. Richie laughed. "Thank you my love." He said, still mixing wildly. 

"Watch out, you don't want to overmix." Was all Eddie said, his voice surprisingly low and scratchy. Well, not surprisingly for him since that's how it usually was, but it seemed to take Richie aback. Eddie could swear his ears were tinged slightly pink as he turned away to pour out the mixture into vaguely pancake-shaped blobs onto the skillet. Eddie yawned and stretched, feeling the music, probably set to the loudest setting, thrum through him. He leaned against the counter and closed his eyes, opening one when he felt Richie's presence beside him. He smiled and closed it again, letting Richie study him. He may not be able to face his feelings, but he was allowed to indulge in some things. 

"It's about a nightlight," Richie said suddenly. Eddie opened his eyes and looked at the man in confusion, eyebrows drawn. 

"Huh?" 

"The song. When we listened to it for the first time, in 1990 right before you were about to move to New York with your mom, you said you didn't know what it's about. I'm telling you now. It's from the perspective of a blue nightlight shaped like a canary." Richie explained, eyes taking note of every detail of Eddie's face. "And in the part about his primitive ancestry,"

"Jason and the Argonauts." 

"Right, exactly. There, he's talking about a lighthouse. And how if he were to do the same job as a lighthouse, he would've killed off Jason and his crew because he's just a little nightlight." He said, never breaking eye contact. Eddie swiped the flour off of his nose. 

"That's cool. You were right, though. It doesn't matter. Either way it's a good song." He said as it switched to another one, something he didn't recognize. Richie must have had a playlist going. "I like that you still listen to them." He said, and Richie smiled brightly, leaving his spot from the counter to flip the pancakes. Eddie pretended not to feel disappointed that their shoulders were no longer almost touching. 

"Hell yeah, never stopped! They got me through some tough times," He said happily, humming intently at the satisfying sizzle the pancakes made when flipped. He swayed his hips lightly at the pop-y music, something very bright sounding. Very different from the previous track and nothing Eddie expected Richie to listen to. He seemed to like it though, with the way he was dancing around. Eddie couldn't help but glance at Richie's legs and, subsequently, his butt. Eddie looked away the moment it happened, face burning, but couldn't deny that it was a nice butt. Even if it was clad in the strangest sleep shorts he had ever seen, half solid black and half blinding orange with equally bright pink patterns. Richie seemed to really like the non-symmetrical look, judging from the shorts and button down he had changed into after they defeated Pennywise. Eddie was mad that Richie made the look work, even if the colors clashed and the shorts didn't match his worn out gray tee with some faded logo on the chest.  
Richie hummed along to this song too, putting all the pancakes on one plate and grabbing butter and maple syrup from the refrigerator, closing it with his hip. Once he set the items down on the table, he stretched his arms up over his head, his shirt riding up a little to show some of his stomach, the light dusting of hair leading into his waistline. Eddie felt the butterflies that seemed to come alive every time Richie was around do somersaults in his stomach. He looked away, neck warm with blush. His problem was getting to be bigger than he thought. It was only his second day in California and he had already consulted two friends about his emotions, walked out on Richie because he was forced to face his feelings, masturbated to the thought of his best friend, realized that he wasn't straight, and gone through every possible form of denial there was. So yeah, he had a big problem. And he _didn’t_ want to face it. Once more, Richie's words came into his head, and he realized that they weren't true. He wasn't brave. He couldn’t bear to face his true self. Not in college, not during his tedious relationship with Myra, and not now. He was a coward. 

And he was in love with his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I hope you liked the chapter! Idk when I’ll be done with 8 since I’m gonna be pretty busy in the next few days, but if I get all my stuff done it should be up at some point this weekend...also the song they were listening to was “Birdhouse in your Soul” by They Might Be Giants for those who didn’t know :)


	8. But He Couldn’t Get Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie knows he loves Richie. He loves Richie more than anyone in the world. 
> 
> But it’s not like he had to tell the guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I don’t know if those who actually see my stuff noticed, but I have no schedule whatsoever when it comes to writing and posting new chapters, so if I have weird gaps of time where I don’t post, don’t be surprised. I hope you enjoy the chapter :D

It had been three days since Eddie realized and accepted his non-heterosexuality and he still had not told Richie. Not that there was a deadline or anything, it was just that for some reason he felt a heavy, sickening sense of obligation every time he saw the man. It was a feeling that Eddie decided he hated almost as much as being dirty, so not only had he not told Richie about his little discovery, but he was also avoiding him. Which proved harder than he had hoped for, given that they were temporarily living together. That’s how he found himself on midday grocery runs after flying for only the second time in his entire life, across the entire country to a state he’d never thought he’d see in person, looking for items that Richie might’ve already had at his Rich Comedian Home. Even with the GPS on his phone, Eddie had already gotten lost twice just trying to find a sufficient grocery that wasn’t teeming with young hipsters and exhausted mothers and people too rich to be shopping in person. Eddie finally made it to what seemed like a more home-grown organically sourced grocery store and began to peruse the aisles aimlessly. 

If there was one thing Eddie hated the most about avoiding his best friend, it was the absolute lack of distraction it caused. Eddie may have stopped himself from doing something stupid, but he also locked himself in his own head, one of his least favorite places. Eddie’s most troubling thoughts came in the form of hopes. What if he told Richie about his sexuality and possible undying love and Richie...accepted it? Accepted _him_ ? Wrapped his arms around him and kissed him senseless, leading them into the best sex of Eddie’s life, then the best post-sex cuddle of Eddie’s life? Eddie fantasized about this situation(among others) more than he’d like to admit. The tantalizing thought of Richie returning Eddie’s love was so painfully vivid in his mind’s eye that he nearly felt sick. Because he would think these things, and of all of the times Richie would hug him just so, wink at him with that mischievous look in his eye, let his touch linger on Eddie’s skin, and the thought that perhaps Richie _did_ return his feelings was so palpable he could practically taste it, and then he would remember Mike’s words. The way Richie also winked at the other Losers, was physically affectionate with them, always reaching for the chance to connect with them outside of shitty jokes and flashing grins. 

_He used to do stuff like that all the time, I don’t see the big deal._

Eddie groaned and ran a hand through his hair, staring through the soup cans that he faced. Just because Richie was also gay doesn’t mean he liked Eddie back. Felt the same feelings. He moved slowly through the aisle past the uniformly stacked soup cans, feeling helplessly sorry for himself. The cart, which he didn’t even need as he didn’t have a list or an idea of what to buy, clicked methodically. As it did so, Eddie came to a decision. He’d stop avoiding Richie, but he would not, under any circumstances, come out to him(for risk of blurting out the real truth and ruining the most important relationship he had.) If he had to admire Richie from afar and force himself through ceaseless post-thinking-about-your-best-friend-while-masturbating shame, then so be it. He had already been living with plain ol’ post-masturbation guilt for his entire life after he discovered it; he was basically _the_ expert on bottling up your feelings and shoving in a permanent cork. So he settled for wistfully imagining what a date with Richie would be like as he put random items in his cart. He felt mocked by the extra-virgin olive oil. If anybody had seen him glare at the glass bottle and turn it around with an angry mutter, they would’ve thought he was crazy. But thankfully he was in what was probably the least busy grocery store in California, which he prided himself on finding so quickly, so nobody did. At the register, where Eddie decided that yes, he _was_ going to buy all the pointless shit that didn’t even cover the full bottom of the cart, he found that even the bougiest of grocery stores fell victim to checkout-line tabloids. _That’s California,_ he thought to himself. As the cashier rang up his items, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing at them. So what Eddie liked the outrageous headlines and unflattering cover pictures and brightly colored block letters that didn’t match the words that were printed, he wasn’t perfect. He was about to look away, focus again on getting out his payment for the probably-useless items, when something caught his eye. Eddie always looked at the tabloids, yes, but he rarely picked him up, as if afraid that they could physically corrupt him. But what he saw on this cover was worth the risk of possible Hollywood demonic possession. 

**Richie Tozier: What** **_Really_ ** **Happened to the Troubled Comedian**

It wasn’t a main story headline, just a piece squished to the side beneath something about some tedious celebrity breakup, but it was enough. Eddie snorted as he stared down at a tired looking version of Richie, the picture chosen clearly to make it seem like he was in dire straits. If Richie was troubled, then what the fuck did that make Eddie? Reluctantly, he tossed the magazine onto the conveyor with a glare, ignoring the cashier's smirk. _The fuck did he know?_

“You don’t seem like the grocery store magazine type,” he said, eye twinkling as he told Eddie the total and where to pay. Eddie raised an eyebrow. Maybe the guy knew more than previously thought. 

“Oh yeah? What makes you say that?” He demanded, swiping his card at the instruction and forcing himself to make eye contact. The cashier shrugged. 

“Because you looked at the thing like it was your worst enemy.” He replied smugly. Eddie could swear that the young man looked him up and down after this, but his mind was still so preoccupied with the article advert that he couldn’t be sure. He began to load his bags, random totes stolen from Richie’s closet, slowly, taking in the young worker. He was young, with perfect skin and teeth and hair that was messed up in just the right way and clothes that were sort of baggy but also tight enough to catch someone’s attention. He seemed like the type that could easily be anywhere between eighteen and twenty eight, which made the interest in his eyes only concern Eddie. 

“Yeah, well it kinda is.” He said, allowing himself a half-genuine smile. “I just need something to take my mind off things.” He said with a wave of his hand, internally grimacing at the enthusiastic look the cashier got at this. He imagined what would happen if he had said something like that to Richie. 

_Your mind isn’t all I’ll be taking off of things if you keep talking like that._ The Richie in his brain teased with a grin. Eddie frowned, angry that even when he was avoiding him, the comedian was still there. 

_Shut up._ He thought back. 

“I like your outfit,” The cashier stated, taking in Eddie with fervor as he put the last of the items in his totes. So this was flirting. Though Eddie wished it were with Richie, he couldn’t deny he didn’t like it. He looked down at his simple athletic shirt and too-long basketball shorts. What he had slept in the night before. Eddie never did that, wore already worn clothes. What was California doing to him?

“Thanks, I slept in it last night.” He replied, looking at the cashier in confusion, as if _he_ knew why Eddie had said it. The man laughed and Eddie moved to take his bags off of the ending dock of the conveyor before pausing. “How...how old are you?” He asked, purely out of curiosity. The cashier flashed a winning smile and looked Eddie up and down again.

“I’m going to be twenty five in like a week.” He said. Eddie blanched, his stomach flipping, and _not_ in the good way, like when Richie made a particularly flattering comment or wore a shirt that showed more of his arms than Eddie(or Richie himself, probably) was used to. He avoided eye contact, clearing his throat, which was suddenly very dry. 

“You sure you want to be checking out an older man like that?” He asked, forcing himself to make eye contact. He knew he was technically middle aged, but this guy was practically still a kid. Or at least, he definitely _looked_ it. Eddie began to feel like the walls were closing in on him. 

“Why, how old are you?” The youthful man asked playfully. Eddie gave a humorless huff. 

“I’m practically twice your age, buddy. And this feels weird as hell.” He said plainly. The cashier seemed unfazed. 

“Well you look like you’re thirty, thirty five tops.” He said, an eyebrow raised as he looked at Eddie once more. The risk analyst _tsk_ ed, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t flattered. 

“Try forty, kid. I appreciate it, though.” He said with a tight-lipped smile. Once again, the worker was unaffected, stirring up some mild frustration inside Eddie. He knew that people could be attracted to whoever they wanted, but this still felt _weird._ Like he was doing something illegal. 

“What do you care who I check out, anyway?” The cashier persisted, cocking his head and wetting his lips. Eddie shouldered his bags awkwardly, his face warming. He opened and closed his mouth at a loss, embarrassed. Before he could formulate an appropriate response, the young man continued. “Look, you’re a hot guy, there’s no question about that. So you shouldn’t be surprised when people try to get with you. I’m allowed to like who I like, and you’re allowed to like who you like. I decided to shoot my shot, and it didn’t work out. I’m not broken up about it or offended. I just wanted to fuck you, and that’s okay because it’s how I feel. Even if something makes you uncomfortable, you shouldn’t be afraid of it. Just handle the situation, you don’t have to make it weird.” He said, casually shrugging. Eddie felt some annoyance bubble up. 

“I did _not_ make it—”

“You made it weird.” The young man’s clear Done With Your Shit-ness was almost reminiscent of Stan, Eddie recalling a specific time where he cut off Richie in almost the exact same way. Eddie mulled the kid’s words over in his head before nodding in acknowledgement. 

“Thanks for everything.” He said sincerely before making his way out of the store, never feeling the young man’s eyes leave him. Once back in Richie’s car, which he had asked to borrow unlike with the totes, he pulled out the tabloid magazine, studying the Richie on the cover. He gave a joyless chuckle before rifling through the pages until he made it to the one with Richie’s name and picture, this one a full body. He looked tired like on the cover, but in this one there was a certain ruggedness to his look that Eddie was not proud of being attracted to. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not making it through the first two sentences before closing the magazine promptly and muttering “bullshit” to no one, only to open it back up again and continue reading. He hated every minute of it, and it really was complete bullshit, but Eddie couldn’t help but feel a certain tug in his stomach every time he read his friend’s name printed out or glanced at the picture of worn out, messy-haired, unshaven, extremely hot Richie. Eddie’s self-forced separation from the man had only gone on for three days and it was already driving him nuts. He replayed in his head what the cashier had said to him. _Just handle the situation._ Eddie set his jaw and started the car. 

When he arrived, Richie was sitting at the kitchen table, Rock Lobster blaring from a record player on one of the counters. From what Eddie could tell, it was easily portable, almost resembling a briefcase. If briefcases had record players in them, at least. Either way, it explained why he hadn’t seen it until now. Richie seemed to be working on something but he bobbed his head with the music and half-mumbled the words to the song as well, so whatever it was must not have been too attention-worthy. 

“Hey Rich,” Eddie greeted cheerlessly. Richie looked up and smiled. Eddie ignored the butterflies for the millionth time. 

“Oh hey, Spaghetti! How was...what did you say you had to do? Grocery shopping?” He asked happily, turning back to his work. 

“Yeah it was fine. A guy flirted with me. It was weird.” He said, mentally kicking himself for bringing it up. Richie looked up again and held his gaze, a strange look coming across him for but a moment. Then it went away, and normal Richie returned. Eddie didn’t know what the look was, but he wasn’t going to lie…it was kind of scary. Eddie had never seen Richie look that way, whatever it was. Had never seen him switch off an emotion so fast 

“That’s fun,” he turned to his work again, but wasn’t actually writing anything down like he had been before. He was tapping his pen in the way he did when he was annoyed. “Was he cute?” For a moment, Eddie was afraid that Richie knew, or had known along, about his secrets. Why else would he ask a question like that? But then he chuckled and Eddie let go of a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Richie was just kidding. 

“Uh, I guess, if you’re into guys from a generation below you.” He said, setting his(slash Richie’s) bags on the table where Richie worked and taking one of the seats. Richie pulled a face and Eddie smiled, the first real one in three days. “For the record, he thought I was way younger than I am.” He clarified. At this, Richie snorted. 

“Damn, warn a guy when you’re about to flex on him, I actually started the day with confidence.” He mumbled. Eddie stared at him in frustrated confusion. 

“Dude, what the fuck? I didn’t give you an entire speech on how people actually think you’re hot just to have you go right back to being a jerk to yourself. Tha shit was made to last _weeks_ . That was the literal god of confidence boosters, or do you not remember how I literally explained to you in depth every reason you’re attractive? And that was just the physical stuff! I didn’t even touch personality!” He accused, remembering the day he arrived at Richie’s house. Richie in his swim trunks. _Only_ his swim trunks. Eddie shivered, even though he had just come from scorching temperatures outside. Richie laughed, genuinely amused. Eddie pushed his shoulder lightly with his fingertips. 

“That was pretty impressive; I gotta say, I did _not_ expect it. But unfortunately, it is still considered void, as you are my best friend and therefore obligated to feel annoyed when I talk bad about myself.” He said, mouth twisting into a smirk. Eddie swatted his shoulder, coxing the smile into a laugh. 

“You’re a dick.” He said, unable to suppress his smile. Richie reached over with ease to ruffle Eddie’s hair. He grumbled, angry that where he had to shift his whole body to reach Richie, the comedian could just extend his arm and boom, hair ruffled. “Asshole,” he mumbled as he fixed his hair. Richie turned back to his mystery work. Eddie tried to inconspicuously get a glance at what he was writing, but Richie could somehow see him the second he moved and smiled wryly as he flipped the smallish notebook shut. Eddie pouted. “I wanna know what you’re writing. Get a look inside the mind of Richie Tozier.” He said with a small grin. Richie made a face like he was thinking about it. 

“Mmmmm…no. This notebook is for Richie’s eyes only, baby.” He said, patting it proudly. Eddie rolled his eyes. 

“Well can you at least tell me what you’re working on, O Mysterious One?” He asked, shifting the tote bags further away so he could lean his forearms on the table better. Richie’s eyes darted from Eddie’s down and then back up again. Or at least that’s what it seemed like. Eddie told himself it was just a flash of light on Richie’s glasses. 

“I uh. I’ve been thinking of coming out. Publicly.” He said, picking at a cuticle. Eddie raised his eyebrows. 

“Wow, that’s great. Big step.” He replied, his attempt to react calmly accidentally coming off as dull. In reality, he was ecstatic. Richie was really beginning to feel comfortable with himself, and it showed. Eddie added a reassuring smile when he saw Richie’s nervousness. “So you’re just what, writing down ideas?” He asked, leaning forward more. Richie nodded, staring at his fidgeting hands.

“Yeah, nothing concrete though. Just brainstorming.” He said quietly. Eddie put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, surprisingly solid. He tried not to breathe too heavily.

“Well whatever you do, I know it’s gonna go great buddy. You’re real fans will love you no matter what.” He said with a smile. Richie returned it, some of his tension visibly leaving him. “Oh speaking of real and fake fans, I bought a tabloid magazine today.” He said, using a tone that made him sound surprised at himself. Richie mirrored it, raising his eyebrows and making a curious noise. Eddie giggled and fished the magazine out of the random tote he had stuffed it in, not letting Richie see the cover. “Listen to this. ‘ _Richie Tozier: What Really Happened to the Troubled Comedian’_ ,” he read, looking at Richie with a comical knowing look. 

“Oooohh, spicy. I bet they used the hottest pictures of me.” He said with a laugh. Eddie nodded enthusiastically and flipped to the page with the article, handing it to Richie, who made another “ooh” noise, this one high pitched and fake-girly. Eddie laughed again.

“They think you’re troubled. Imagine if I were famous? They’d think I was absolutely bat-shit insane.” He said assuringly, hoping Richie wasn’t taking the article to heart. 

“Look at me, absolutely rocking the ‘I’ve Been Living Out of a Car for the Past Three Weeks’ look. Definitely a vibe that screams ‘celebrity’.” He joked, eyes flaring on the word “celebrity.” Eddie laughed, glad he was taking it as it was, a joke. All those checkout line tabloids were anyway. 

“The article is shit, but I like how much they say your name in it. It’s like, an unnecessary amount, do they not realize that pronouns also exist?” He said, shifting his chair so he could study the page with Richie, who was clearly amused by the article. “I think you look good. You never don’t look good with stubble.” He said, regretting it the moment the words left his mouth. He hoped Richie wouldn’t tease him too hard or notice his growing blush or worse, his feelings for him. But the man only laughed shortly. 

“Ah yes, me with my tasteful stubble. I look like I got out of bed, put on the nearest clothes, and decided that was how I was going to present myself to the public that day. It’s awful even for me, which is saying something.” He commented, looking back down at the picture and laughing again. “Good thing you’re probably the only person on the planet to buy a copy of this. When is this from, cause it’s old fuckin news. Seems like they’re the ones who need to get their shit together. Who’s troubled now, assholes.” He tossed the magazine onto the table, interest waning. Eddie laughed. 

“They do give me a good laugh in the checkout aisle. I’m sort of convinced they just put a bunch of mildly related words into a hat and pull them out until they’re all gone and whatever order they come out is the headline.” He said, shaking his head in amusement. Richie threw his head back in laughter, surprising Eddie. “Jeez, it wasn’t that funny.” He said, sheepishly glancing around. Richie stopped laughing. 

“You fucker.” Eddie’s head snapped up, not expecting to be addressed in such a way. Richie was looking at him with the remnants of a grin. “You say some of the funniest shit I’ve ever heard, even if it wasn’t supposed to be a joke. You can’t fuckin lecture me on body positivity and then deny you’re hilarious ness, it’s immoral.” He said, leaning forward. Eddie felt like he was staring into his soul. 

“No, it’s not _immoral_ , it’s just you laughing at every little thing I say because you’re my best friend. Like you said, it’s void. Doesn’t count. You spent more days with me growing up than without and you still want to hang out with me like thirty years later, so I don’t consider you of sound mind either.” He said with a smirk. Richie put a dramatic hand on his chest and pretended to look scandalized before resuming his normal look of an off-duty stoner(his own words.)

“Now who’s being the dick.” He said pointedly. Eddie rolled his eyes and began to put away the items in the adjacent kitchen workspace. “So Bill’s movie is premiering tomorrow. I was thinking we could go together.” Richie offered, flipping the notebook back open disinterestedly. Eddie felt that familiar flip of his stomach. 

“Yeah. Okay. That sounds good.” He said hesitantly, realizing too late that he wasn’t just handling the situation and was, in fact, making it weird. Richie hummed in acknowledgement. 

“Good ‘cause I already bought the tickets.” He said, his wolf-like grin audible in his tone. Eddie spun around to look at him, but his back was to him, shoulders back to being hunched over the little black notebook. Eddie gave a laugh-but-it’s-just-a-fast-exhale-out-of-your-nose laugh and studied Richie’s back. 

“Dipshit. What if I had said no?” He said plainly, only to get a reaction out of the man. The longer Eddie stayed with Richie, the more he was beginning to realize that they really hadn’t changed much over the years. Richie got up and stretched overhead, doing a little shimmy to whatever the B-52s were jamming out with in the briefcase record player now before making his way over to Eddie. 

“I dunno,” he said, leaning his shoulder against the fridge and crossing one calf behind the other, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. Like some motherfucker in a movie. Eddie ignored the electricity he felt when Richie looked at him. “I guess I’d just have to invite Marc with a c.” He said, delivering Marc’s same as if he were a spooky ghost in a children's story. His grin only widened at Eddie’s glare.

“You’d better not.” He warned with a mock glare. Richie laughed. 

“Well then I’m glad I asked you first then. Looks like we got ourselves a date.” He said with a wink. Then, for extra measure, he ruffled Eddie’s hair and said “Cute cute _cute_ ,” laughing then at Eddie’s disgruntledness.

Eddie wanted to kiss him. He wanted to take the fabric of his shirt in his hands and push him against the door of the fridge, exploringRichie’s body with his hands and lips. He wanted to make him dinner and snuggle on the couch while watching movies. He wanted to look through every one of Richie’s vinyls and hear the story behind each of them. Maybe Richie would even let Eddie sort them, because even though they were neatly packed into the bookcase, he knew for a fact that they were in no order whosoever. He wanted to wake up in Richie’s bed and use his chest as a pillow, feeling the steady rhythmic swell of it as he slept, unaffected. He wanted Richie to keep making bad jokes and teasing Eddie and Eddie desperately wanted to say “Richard Tozier, I hate you” and for Richie to say “I hate you too” before kissing him senseless. Eddie wanted to tell Richie he loved him. He wanted to scream it from the mountain tops. He wanted to go back to that grocery store and say it to the cashier who had so shamelessly flirted with him. He wanted to tell Marc with a c, say that he didn’t realize what an opportunity he passed up for not committing to Richie. Eddie loved everything about Richie, and it was kind of baffling to him when other people didn’t. He loved Richie’s laugh, his shitty jokes, how much he swore, how he looked at Eddie when he was concerned. How he was always there with some joke or reassurance to cheer Eddie up. He loved how when he fucked up, he apologized, even if it took him a minute to figure out why or how. He loved his stubble and his big dumb glasses and his fucked up teeth and that he said shit that made Eddie laugh uncontrollably without even trying. Eddie loved the way Richie’s mind worked, even if Richie himself didn’t always appreciate it. Eddie loved Richie so much it hurt. 

And that’s why he couldn’t tell Richie. That he loved him. That he was _in love_ with him. Because he loved Richie with every fiber of his living being, and if he lost him because he wanted something more, something Richie didn’t…Eddie wasn’t sure if that was the type of emotional blow he could recover from. In realizing this, Eddie realized that as much as he loved Richie, he also feared him. 

Richie held the power to upend Eddie’s entire life and he didn’t even know it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do realize that it’s literally impossible to release a movie four months after filming wrapped, but to that I say: suspend your disbelief. I’m trying my best with this. Just roll with my shit, you have up until this point if you’re reading this lol(which thank you so much, by the way, I didn’t think anybody was going to see this, never mind like it!)


	9. Tea in the Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie and Richie get ready for the premier of Bill’s movie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So has a few time cuts, so if for a sec you’re like “what just happened” it was probably that. I don’t really know how movie premiers work, but this is what happens during the day, not at the premiere, so I’ll look it up between now and when I write that chapter. Enjoy :)

“God fucking—get back here! How are you so fast, you don’t even work out!” Eddie growled, taking a predatory stance on one side of the couch as Richie laughed and slid into the kitchen area, using his socks as skates. 

“My legs are long, I can leap out of the way like the clumsiest gazelle on earth.” He said, panting. “Also do you not see me suffering? My body was not made for this.” He poured a large glass and began drinking, and Eddie allowed himself at Richie’s Adam’s apple. The way it moved methodically. Richie seemed determined to drink the whole glass in one go, so Eddie advanced with the comb, only to stop when Richie held up a halting finger, still drinking. He finished the glass with an exaggerated noise and set it on the counter, raising an eyebrow at Eddie. They stood at a standstill, both equally menacing. Eddie brandished the comb like a powerful dagger and Richie balled his fists, not backing down. Richie’s shirt shoulders were getting more and more soaked through as his hair dripped. 

“You don’t comb your hair  _ after  _ it’s already dry, stupid. It makes it harder to detangle and harder to style. Plus it hurts like hell if you have any bad snarls, which I’m sure you do, so why are you doing this? Just back down, you’re better off that way. Plus, you’re getting your shirt all wet.” Eddie said, inching closer to Richie, who backed up accordingly. 

“I’m set in my ways, Eds—”

“Don’t call me that,”

“—there’s no going back for me. I’m a lost cause, and not even you can fix me.” He said,  voice taking on a faux somber Batman voice, expression grim. “I’m alone in this, and I always will be.” He said, and Eddie almost laughed. But he couldn’t back down, couldn’t let down his guard for even a second. Richie looked at him darkly. “You can’t control me!” He yelled, turning the last word into a victory cry as he charged directly towards Eddie. For a moment he panicked, but his reflexes kicked in at the last minute and he held Richie, who hadn’t actually gotten much power behind his charge, fast. After about two seconds of grappling, Richie gave up, letting his arms fall limply to his sides and hanging his head. Then, still in the Batman voice, said “You win.” dejectedly. Eddie burst out laughing and grabbed Richie by the wrist, leading him to the couch where he sat both of them down, turning a compliant Richie so that he could properly comb the stubborn man’s hair. “I can do it myself, you know.” He protested when Eddie instructed him to sit on the edge of the couch so he could position himself behind him, kneeling so that he had easy access to all of Richie’s hair. Eddie snorted. 

“I can’t trust you. Just because you have your emotional shit together doesn’t give you an excuse to not take care of yourself properly.” He said as he began combing out Richie’s hair, starting out at the bottom where it was the curliest. And thickest. 

“I use shampoo and conditioner separately, asshole, that’s like peak hygiene from me.

I’ve used the two in one stuff, like, most of my life. It was a big step up.” Richie countered. Eddie rolled his eyes.

“That’s like the bare minimum you can do, dipshit. God, why is your hair so thick.” He muttered the last part mostly to himself, and Richie gave a single “ha” laugh. 

“Tell that to my receding hairline.” He replied, hissing through his teeth when Eddie tugged particularly hard on a tangle. Eddie swatted Richie’s back, close to the nape of his neck. Richie laughed, scratchy and high. Eddie liked when Richie’s laugh reached that level. Who was he kidding, he liked Richie’s laugh no matter what. “What? I’m just telling the truth.” He said, leaning back slightly as Eddie worked his way up, an occasional water droplet doing a kamikaze mission off of Richie’s hair. 

“Yeah,” Eddie rang the water out of the hair that had been combed fully through, “but you make it seem like a bad thing.” Richie shrugged and when he spoke Eddie could tell that his smile had fallen. 

“I mean, it kind of is. It’s definitely not my most redeeming quality. Shit like that can really get to you when you work in one of the most judgmental industries on earth. People say things.” He said, fidgeting with his hands. Eddie nearly stopped combing out of annoyance. 

“Well, asshole, not everybody is into the same thing. There are loads of people who think you’re smokin’.” He said, silently including himself in that group. Richie snorted incredulously. 

“I appreciate the misplaced enthusiasm.” He said, popping his knuckles. “But I’ve learned to accept it. I’m never going to be an American heartthrob, and I’m okay with that. My goal is to make people laugh, not swoon. It would just be easier if my insanely hot-ness distracted people from the shittiness of my jokes.” He joked. Eddie pursed his lips. 

“Your jokes were only shitty because you let people change them until they weren’t even your own, asshole.” He replied, and he knew Richie knew it was the truth. “Once you get to writing your own stuff, which you better do or else I  _ will _ fuck you up, people see that it’s not just your delivery that makes it funny.” Eddie coaxed Richie’s head back to better access his hair on top, but Richie turned his head back until his face was turned to the ceiling, making eye contact with Eddie, who looked down at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“You should be a motivational speaker, really. I feel empowered.” He said, raising his eyebrows sarcastically. Eddie rolled his eyes and forced Richie’s head to how he wanted it to be by gripping his jaw with the thumb and pointer finger of one hand, the other threaded through Richie's hair. All of a sudden, Eddie felt the intimacy of the setup hit him like a train. Sure, he had known what he was doing the minute he picked up the hairbrush and chased Richie downstairs with it, but he didn’t expect to face the emotional consequences so soon. He didn’t breathe and felt like Richie could hear the pound of his heartbeat and the blood roaring in his ears. Richie laughed again, a light giggle, and Eddie felt a warmth that was becoming all too familiar bloom in his chest. Eddie got different feelings in reaction to different things Richie did, but they were all some variation of love. If Richie was being sexy, it was a tug at the pit of his stomach that spread quickly like wildfire. If it was the slow burn from his chest, that meant Richie had done something particularly cute or endearing. But when Richie was happy, talking about something he enjoyed passionately, winning a game and celebrating very non-humbly, or simply listening to music with thoughtfully closed eyes, Eddie felt it all over. Sometimes it came when Richie was simply  _ existing _ . And it wasn’t raging and burning, but a velvety feeling that washed through him comfortingly, the familiarity of it making Eddie's heart ache. He felt that one the most. He finished combing through Richie’s hair and realized that he had shifted considerably closer to Eddie. Eddie kneeled up so he could look directly down at Richie, who looked up again, a content smile painting his face. 

“You’re good at that.” His voice was deeper than usual, taking on a gravelly quality, and Eddie felt the familiar tug in his stomach and the visible blush that so often came with it. “Why didn’t you say so sooner, I could have spared myself from actually,  _ eugh, _ working out.” He said, and Eddie laughed, but it was nervous. He was distracted by the wildfire underneath his skin. Richie’s eyes were half-lidded and something burned in them, something Eddie couldn’t identify. Richie moved his head from side to side, cracking his neck with ease. Eddie found that what normally annoyed him(Richie cracking his joints,) only fueled the feeling inside of him. Richie got up and Eddie felt his blush spread across his cheeks and down his neck. He had forgotten that they were both only in underwear and sleep shirts. Sure, Richie had boxers that were basically just comfortable shorts that had easier access to the...crotchal area, but still. Eddie shook his head and excused himself to the bathroom frantically, thankful that Richie didn’t ask any questions when he raced to the upstairs one when there was one right by the kitchen. He quickly slammed the door, bracing himself on the sink, gripping the sides so hard his knuckles turned white. 

“ _ Shit, _ ” he said breathily, turning on the cold water and washing his hands aggressively,  going so far as to wash his forearms as well. He focused on methodically scrubbing until his skin was pink, and didn’t stop even then, moving on to splash the cold water in his face. Surprisingly, it worked. The feeling was still there, but now he at least knew his body wasn’t at risk of responding a little  _ too _ enthusiastically to the way Richie was acting. The way he  _ looked _ .  _ God _ , why did Richie have to  _ be like that?  _ And the fact that he didn’t even realize it made the whole thing more preposterous. Eddie closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, following the much needed advice of his therapist. Right as he was about to leave the bathroom, he heard two knocks on the door. “Yeah?” He asked cautiously only to open the door right away, Richie’s look of surprise and the sweatpants he now wore comforting. At least he was back to being alert and fully dressed, no longer giving the casual sexy douchebag vibe that literally made Eddie unravel. “What’s up?”

“Oh uh, I just wanted to ask…” his expression changed into a mischievous playboy look, like he was trying to achieve the sexiness he had before but was doing it quite badly. So he was going to crack a joke. Eddie mentally prepared himself for whatever he had in store. Richie’s voice turned husky and low, but it was artificial, one of his comical voices. “ _ How do you like your eggs in the morning? _ ” He asked, facade almost breaking for a moment. Eddie glared at him. 

“I’m going to strangle you.”

Richie broke, laughing loud and big, and Eddie didn’t return it. He did join Richie by his side to return downstairs and felt his annoyance bubble up as the man shook with laughter. Which was a good thing. He was supposed to be annoyed, that’s how it always went. Things were turning back to normal. Eddie sent another silent thank you to whatever invisible forces controlled the universe he lived in. “Seriously though,” Richie said after finally settling down, “I’m making eggs and toast, what do you want?” He said, bumping his shoulder playfully into Eddie’s. Eddie thought for a moment before getting an idea. 

“What if I made breakfast today?” He asked brightly, remembering his extensive list of romantic things he wanted to do with Richie. Cooking for him had been pretty high on the list, and that was something that could easily be achieved without confessing your whole heart’s desires. Richie raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. “Yeah, you’ve cooked for me like every day since I’ve been here, you deserve a break!” He reasoned. Richie considered this thoughtfully. 

“Alright man, if that’s what you want, go for it.” He replied, clearly still a little confused but supporting Eddie’s idea wholeheartedly. They made their way to the kitchen area where Richie leaned his forearms on the island in the center. As Eddie began to try to locate all the proper items to make a meal in the unfamiliar kitchen, he felt Richie’s eyes on him. When he turned to flash the man a friendly glare(if there were such a thing,) he saw that he was grinning. 

“What are you smiling at, jackass?” He shot, getting out a pan after finally finding the right cabinet. Richie gave a short “I know more than you do” laugh. The more his annoyance grew, the more relieved he became, and the way Richie was acting now was being a big help. 

“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” He said, less of a question and more of a call-out. Eddie, facing the counter, only offered an unenthusiastic middle finger. He was glad he wasn’t facing Richie, since now he didn’t have to hide his smile, which broadened when he heard Richie’s good-natured laugh. A few moments passed and his struggle to find everything he needed wasn’t letting up. “You want some help?” He eventually heard Richie ask right as he found what he had been looking for. 

“Aha! Nope, I have everything now. Plus, I’m cooking for you, it’s not the same if you help me.” He said, glancing at Richie, who smiled. He smiled back, unabashedly checking Richie out for the thousandth time in the past four days. He figured Richie didn’t have the attention span to notice. It wasn’t a roast, it was just how it was, and he was right. The moment he smiled at Richie, the comedian took out two rubber bands from seemingly nowhere and was trying to figure out different ways to tie them together. There was no way he saw Eddie studying him. Eddie worked, kicking up a familiar routine as he scrambled Richie’s eggs. After a few moments of silence, Richie’s phone rang, startling Eddie. 

“Oh, I gotta take this.” He said, picking up the phone and walking out of the room into the study that that kitchen was connected to. Eddie didn’t look away until he closed the door behind him. He turned back to his eggs happily, pouring Richie’s and cracking his own into the pan just as his phone buzzed on the counter. He looked over and frowned. Myra. He brought his phone to the kitchen table, sitting down in case whatever his ex-wife had to say was particularly upsetting. He read the long paragraph of a text with knit eyebrows. She wanted to change what they had previously discussed for the specifics of their divorce, claiming that most of the items of theirs, including furniture, were hers despite them having split their belongings evenly in their previous meetings with their attorneys. Eddie rubbed at his eyes, really not having it with her today. He nervously tapped on the table as he drafted his response. Why couldn’t she just call him about this? Preferably when it wasn’t nine in the morning while he was on vacation? Eddie was increasingly disbelieving that he was married to a woman like her for twelve years, and with her for seventeen. 

“Oh shit Eds, your eggs are on fire.”  Eddie looked up, first to Richie in the doorway, then to the pan that held his eggs. His  _ on _ _ fire _ eggs.  _ “Holy fuck!”  _ He screeched, leaping to his feet and dashing to the stovetop, pouring out the leftover water that was thankfully still in the kettle on the back burner onto the pan engulfed in flames. What used to be eggs was now a simple blackened lump of what was decidedly  _ not  _ eggs. At least not anymore. Eddie stood for a moment in complete shock, breathing heavily. He looked at Richie, who mirrored his surprise, then back at the scorched lump. Then Richie started to laugh. At first it was a short burst, a testament to the disbelief he had for what he just saw go down. Then he began to  _ really  _ laugh.  _ Hard _ . Like, side splitting, high pitched, random clapping laughing. At first, Eddie was too perplexed to even be annoyed. He watched curiously as Richie teared up from laughing so hard, jaw slack and eyebrows scrunched from pure confusion. Richie finally started to calm down, but he couldn’t stop himself from small bursts of giggles as he tried to address the situation. Then the toaster dinged and he lost it again. Eddie finally found his voice after watching Richie nearly rupture his spleen from laughing for thirteen solid seconds. 

“Wh—why are you laughing?” He asked, voice meek and cracked, entire body on fire from embarrassment. He felt like he was going to die. Or maybe throw up. Or leave the country entirely. Richie had to actually brace himself on the doorframe to collect his bearings. He wiped at his eyes, tears of laughter continuously welling up. 

“It’s—it’s just that—oh my god, Eddie, I’m literally crying—I can’t—” He sputtered. Eddie crossed his arms, inclining his head in further confusion. “I fucking—holy shit. I leave for less than five minutes and I come back to  _ on fire eggs _ .” He said, giggles still bubbling out of him. Eddie tightened his arms around his torso and looked away, his embarrassment feeling like poison in his veins. “That’s the funniest fucking thing, holy shit.” Eddie felt his embarrassment amass into frustration. 

“No it isn’t! I’m— _ fuck _ , I’m so sorry! This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever  happened to me and my childhood friend group called itself The  _ Loser’s _ Club, holy shit.” He replied, burying his face in his hands. He felt like if he looked at Richie or the eggs anymore he might actually cry.  _ Get yourself together, Kaspbrak.  _ He heard Richie pad closer to him, still chuckling lightly but kept his face covered. Or at least he did until Richie took his wrists in his hands and gently lowered Eddie’s arms to his sides. Calmly but still smiling, Richie got Eddie a glass of water and casually began to take care of the child’s failed science experiment excuse for eggs. Eddie let out a shaky breath and drank the water slowly and leaned against the counter, the smell of burnt eggs starting to filter through his shock. “Do—do you have any candles? Or something? God, Rich, I’m so sorry.” He said, voice strained. Richie laughed. 

“Yeah, I have some in that closet. I’ll get them, don’t worry. You just chill out, you seem pretty shaken up.” He said reassuringly. Eddie watched him as he washed the pan vigorously until it was fully free of charred breakfast. “And there’s no need to apologize, that stove is hard to get used to. Plus, we still have the toast.” Richie added brightly, crossing the kitchen and grabbing one of the pieces of toast, ironically perfectly cooked. He buttered it without getting a plate, Eddie raising an eyebrow at the crumbs that now dusted the counter in front of the toaster. Richie gave a reassuring smile and Eddie looked away, sipping his drink. “Eddie, seriously. It’s fine. I’m fine, you’re fine, nobody’s hurt. The house didn’t catch on fire. Don’t beat yourself up about this, it’s not your fault.” He said with a sincere gaze. Eddie fiddled with his empty glass and tried to offer a grateful smile. Richie grinned. “Well, it was kind of your fault, but I still love you either way.” He said through a mouthful of toast. Eddie rolled his eyes before smiling. 

“Thanks, Richie.” He scratched the back of his neck, thinking about Myra’s text. Basically what caused the fire in the first place. “Myra wants to change our agreements.” He said sullenly, staring blankly through the floor. “That’s why I wasn’t paying attention. I just got the text.” He explained. Richie drew his eyebrows together. 

“Isn’t that the type of thing you call about?” He pointed out. Eddie gave a dry chuckle. 

“She seems to think that this is just going to be an open and shut case for her. I think she thinks that since I ‘broke her heart’ or whatever that she’s allowed to get away with whatever she wants. She thinks I owe her something.” Eddie shrugged. “I dunno, maybe I do. I mean—”

“Woah woah woah. Um, no. You don’t owe her anything. She’s an adult, she can deal with her own problems. You can’t think like that man, that’s exactly what she wants. Or do you forget that that’s exactly what your mom used to pull?” Richie replied heatedly, putting down the toast. Eddie grimaced at him. “Don’t look at me like that, you know I’m right. I may not have had to live with her, but I know what she was like, and I know that you don’t deserve to go through that BS again.” He enforced. He seemed genuinely angry, a cold comparison to his class clown MO. Eddie almost laughed. He had always thought of anger as a hot emotion. He supposed it generally was, especially for him given his hot-headedness, but it wasn’t on Richie. Richie’s eyes no longer had his trademark sparkle and his jaw was set in a way that demanded no nonsense. Cold. Brooding. Kinda hot, but Eddie didn’t have the time or energy to unpack that. Angry Richie was like the moon. Unassuming at first, until you realize the tides it controls. Eddie folded his arms. 

“I know, but I mean…doesn't everybody deserve forgiveness? She was still my mom, after all.” He tried to reason. Richie moved from where he was leaning against the counter, abandoning the half eaten toast. Eddie hoped he wouldn’t eat the rest after it was laid directly on the probably dirty counter. 

“Doesn’t mean she wasn’t abusive.” His voice was level but Eddie could sense the seas  of rage behind it. He could feel his own annoyance bubble up. What did  _ he _ know?

“What do _you_ know?” He snapped back. Richie was close to him now, eyes boring into Eddie’s soul. 

“I know that she made you unhappy. I know that she made you constantly stress over things that didn’t exist. I know that the way she controlled you went beyond the level parent’s control should go. I know that she made you feel bad about yourself, made you feel small. And alone. Like she was the only person that would ever be there for you. Like she was the only person that would ever love you.” Richie’s fists were balled at his sides. Eddie avoided his eyes uncomfortably, knowing that he was right about it all. Richie blinked, intensity dimming as well as his voice. “I know that that’s not true.” He looked at Eddie softly. The tides were beginning to lower. Eddie gave a weak half-smile and cleared his throat. 

“You’re right.” He shrugged. “You’re right, I only ever was with Myra because she was familiar. It forced me out of being myself because being myself meant taking the hard way out, and I just didn’t think I was capable of that.” Eddie realized. Richie squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. 

“But you did. It took killing a monster clown demon to figure it out, but you did it.” Richie ended brightly, the glint in his eye finally returning. Eddie even managed a small laugh. “I told you, you’re braver than you think. Hell, you’re the bravest fuckin guy I know. You’re awesome, man, you’ll get through this. I’m here for you.” Any anger was now completely gone from his tone and his eyes. But the look had come over Richie so easily, had practically taken him over completely, and Eddie realized that Richie might be more jaded underneath than he let on. He thought back to when they defeated Pennywise, how  _ enraged _ Richie was after Eddie was put in danger. He hooked a hand on Richie’s extended arm and smiled.

“I know. Thank you.” Eddie didn’t want to look away. He wanted the moment, the feeling, to last forever. The look in Richie’s eyes. The feeling of his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, large and comforting. The feeling of Richie’s forearm and the dark hair that dusted it against Eddie’s palm. But then Richie cleared his throat and the two separated, lost eye contact, and shuffled awkwardly to erase the intimacy of the interaction. Eddie went to grab his own piece of toast but ended up nearly running into Richie, who had tried to get to the sink. When he shifted to the side, Richie accidentally followed and they nearly did it again. Richie then took Eddie by the shoulders and gently shifted him to the side, almost hiding his smirk as he moved past. Eddie looked after him as he made it to the sink to continue taking care of dishes that were still in it from the previous night. Eddie turned to the toaster and gripped the lip of the counter it sat on, biting his lip with a smile. 

“So wait, you have to do what that guy says or else—”

“Or else he’ll kill me, yeah. Or it’ll just say I failed the mission.”

“And once you complete the task, it’ll switch to his point of view?” 

“Ooh, you’re learning, I’m impressed.”

Eddie grinned proudly. “But you can change back to this guy whenever you want too, right?” He followed up quickly, not wanting to celebrate early. 

“Yes, exactly.” Eddie smiled, turning back to the TV screen excitedly. Watching Richie play Grand Theft Auto was definitely more fun when he knew what was going on. He knew the premise obviously, it’s in the title, but the game could actually be much more complex than he had thought. When he had first spotted Richie’s extensive video game collection he had rolled his eyes, wondering why Richie still put so much energy into that kind of thing. But now, watching Richie lock eyes with the screen and move the buttons on the controller at lightning speed, he realized that it was something that made Richie happy. 

“No, no no no no, dammit.” Richie mumbled, the adrenaline practically emanating off of him as he leaned forward. 

“What, what’s there?” Eddie said, having been paying so much attention to Richie’s guy that he didn’t know what was going on around the character. 

“Rival collectors. They must’ve seen me pick up the package,  _ shit! _ ” Richie said, swerving his surprisingly well-rendered vehicle off road. Eddie shifted forward on the couch in anticipation. “Oh fuck, they have a fucking helicopter? Dammit!” Richie hissed, somehow level and frantic at the same time. He found temporary cover and fiddled with some buttons and suddenly he was shooting at the helicopter, hitting two of the guys in. “ _ Fuck _ yeah, that’s how it’s done baby!” He whooped, getting back into the car and speeding off once more. Eddie kept looking between Richie and the scene on screen, not able to decide which was more captivating. Richie bit his bottom lip in concentration, an excited look lighting up his eyes. Eddie found that his own heart was racing in the thrill of the chase. This was fun. “Haha! Return the package to Michael! That’s what I’m  _ talking  _ about!”

“Wait, so you lost them?” Eddie asked, not learning his lesson from before and still not paying attention to the world around Richie’s character. “That’s awesome man!” He congratulated, now almost as invested in the weapons run as Richie. He felt his self from thirty minutes ago judging him. It had been three hours since the egg incident and Richie had gotten some work done and asked Eddie if he wanted to play a game. Eddie had raised an eyebrow unenthusiastically and Richie shrugged, disappearing down a staircase that Eddie hadn’t even realized was there. Intrigued, he had followed Richie and found that one of the rooms of his basement was a lavish game room. Well, perhaps not  _ lavish _ , but still really cool. Surprisingly neat. It had two pinball machines and a pool table in addition to the vast array of video games, lined up neatly in a bookcase similar to the one that held the vinyls upstairs. So now Eddie found himself on the edge of his seat, full attention on the screen in front of him, completely contradicting himself from thirty minutes ago. He had gone into watching Richie play thinking he’d be bored within the first two minutes, yet now here he was watching the man evade rival collectors so he could deliver weapons to a man named Michael in a video game that he had always regarded as sophomoric and pointless. Which, he supposed, it kind of was, but he was thoroughly enjoying himself, which he had  _ not  _ expected. 

“Oh no,” Richie groaned. “This kid has been on my ass for the past two weeks. I don’t know how he finds me, but he always does and fucks my shit up for literally no good reason.” He explained before Eddie could ask. “See that car with the little thing above it that’s trying to crash me? That’s him. Hang on, lemme lose him.” Richie wetted his lips, repeating a similar form of aversion as he had with the rivals. Speaking of which. “Goddammit, they’re back. Now I have two assholes following me.” Richie growled, clearly becoming more agitated. Then, quite suddenly: “Agh, you sloppy bitch!” 

**Mission Failed**

**Press X to Continue**

Eddie looked at the screen, then Richie, then the screen again in confusion. “W—what just happened? You were losing them! What the—what the fuck, man!” He demanded, standing up. Richie laughed and slumped back on the couch, tension from the chase visibly leaving his shoulders. Despite losing the round(or failing the mission, whatever it was called,) he had a lazy, victorious grin on his face. “What are you smiling at?” He shot, putting his hands on his hips and breathing heavily. 

“Nothing, it’s just I thought you thought video games were pointless cause they give no educational value or whatever but you got so into it. It’s cute.” He said, twirling a piece of his longer hair with one finger like a teenage girl in a movie. Eddie rolled his eyes. “I’m serious! Richie said, adjusting himself so he was sitting up properly. “Look at you, you’ve stood up, you’re yelling, you got all mad. I think you might have a little more gamer blood in you than we thought, Eduardo.” He said. Eddie shook his head. 

“No. It’s scientifically impossible. I refuse to believe it.” He said, backing up a step when Richie stood, a devilish look on his face. 

“I dunno, I’m imagining you in a hoodie and gamer headset and I gotta say, you’re looking pretty comfortable.” He said, walking to Eddie slowly. When he met him, Eddie didn’t back up further. He could stand his ground. Richie didn’t have  _ that  _ much of a pull on him. He hoped. 

“Just because I enjoyed myself  _ once _ watching you play the fifth edition of ‘Oh Look I Stole A Car’ does  _ not  _ mean I will stoop to your level.” He said, trying to disrupt Richie’s soft gaze with his own sharp one. It wasn’t working. 

“So you admit it. You had fun. And you weren’t even the one playing. A gamer at heart.” He looked down at Eddie smugly. Before Eddie could retort, he shrugged and turned his back, making his way up the stairs. Eddie rolled his eyes with a sigh and followed him to the ground floor. 

“We gotta leave at like four, the premier’s at six, I don’t wanna be late. Wanna help pick out my outfit?” He said, not bothering to look back to check if Eddie was actually following him. Eddie brightened. Richie asking him for advice on how to dress? He had been waiting to hear those words ever since he was twelve years old. Sure, his fashion sense wasn’t perfect, but it was infinitely better than Richie’s. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

“Wait, sloppy bitch?” Eddie called through the door of Richie’s walk in closet, where he was changing. Eddie kept having to remind himself not to imagine it too vividly. 

“Huh?” He heard, muffled. 

“You said ‘sloppy bitch’ when the mission failed. And you called Pennywise a sloppy bitch too, holy shit I almost forgot about that! What’s up with that, is that a new thing?” He asked with a grin. 

“Oh, uh, yeah I guess. I think I picked it up at some point in the nineties, it’s only something I say when I get competitive.” He explained with a dry chuckle. “Okay, how’s this?” He opened the door dramatically. 

“Surprisingly not bad.” Eddie said, getting off of Richie’s bed, where he had been sitting. Eddie had decided he liked Richie’s room the moment he set foot in it. It was like a matured version of his childhood room, not too messy but also not too clean. It had posters on the walls and an array of knickknacks and keepsakes on top of the bureaus. The color scheme and decoration was very  _ Richie _ and the room overall was more homely than Eddie’s guest room. Richie was wearing dress pants and a designer belt with new-looking shoes and an off-white dress shirt that had randomly placed line segments of small black X’s patterning it. He had a black blazer over it that fit him well and a shiny turquoise bow tie. Richie did a slow turn, arms spread like a circus ringleader presenting an act. 

“Ooh, should I roll up the sleeves?” He perked up in realization, as if it were the best idea he had had in his life. 

“Absolutely not, it’s not the nineteen eighties. How formal is this thing again?” He asked, more to remind Richie than himself. He’d rather arrive overdressed than underdressed in  _ any _ situation. Richie chuckled. 

“So you like it?” He asked, looking genuinely hopeful. 

“Yeah, I mean it all fits, it looks good on you, smart but still your style. I’m surprised it only took you forty three tries to get something mildly okay.” He said. Richie rolled his eyes. 

“I tried like six outfits, that’s normal.” He argued. Eddie snorted. 

“Not if you're someone who actually thinks before they put on an outfit. C’mon, I’ll iron it for you.” He offered plainly. “So are we gonna get to see Bill? He’s gotta be at his own premier, right?” He asked as Richie removed the blazer and button down and handed the latter to Eddie with thanks. 

“I don’t know, he’s gonna be there but he might be too busy for us.” Richie chuckled, studying Eddie as he turned in a confused circle, realizing he did not know where Richie's ironing board was. Richie jerked his head to signal that Eddie should follow him. They made it to a washroom, a nice washer and dryer and a half full hamper taking up most of one half of it. The other half was occupied by an already-set-up ironing board, much to Eddie’s relief. At least Richie wasn’t  _ hopeless _ , even if his fashion sense was like Gonzo from the muppets come to life. “Maybe, though, I’ll text him before we leave.” He said, leaning against the wall as Eddie set up the iron. Richie in a white t-shirt with an untied bow tie hanging loosely around his neck should not have been as attractive to Eddie as it was. 

“Do you want me to drive so you can text him along the way, too?” Eddie asked, glad he could focus on ironing instead of making it too obvious that he was checking Richie out. Richie chuckled again. 

“No thanks, the last time you drove you crashed your car and you almost set my house on fire today, I don’t wanna risk it.” He said with a flippant grin. Eddie shot him a glare. 

“I’ve driven after the crash and it’s been fine, asshole. That was just ‘cause of Mike’s call, anyway.” He retorted.

“Fine, but I still don’t want someone with a flair for the pyro-dramatics to be driving my car.” He said, shoving his hands in his pockets and grinning.

“Too soon, dude, beep beep.” Eddie mumbled and Richie laughed, so it was unable to suppress a grin. He finished ironing Richie’s shirt and handed it to him, slightly angry at the beat his heart skipped when their fingers brushed. 

“Alright, we’ve got a few hours to kill, wanna grab some lunch?” He asked, heading back to the room with Eddie close behind him. He laid out the outfit(besides the pants, which he still wore), on his bed and tugged off the white undershirt before going back into the closet to get some day clothes. Eddie averted his eyes. He may have been able to check Richie out at the pool a few days prior, but now things were different. Now Eddie knew how he felt. He wasn’t just admiring anymore. He was  _ wanting _ . So he didn’t look. He cleared his throat. 

“Uh sure. Wanna go to that sandwich shop you told me about?” He suggested, remembering when Richie stopped Eddie in the hall while he had been trying to avoid him to tell him about it. Richie had put an unassuming hand on Eddie’s chest to stop him from scurrying off, but that only made Eddie want to crawl into a hole and never come out even more. If Richie knew the way Eddie thought of him sometimes, the way he thought of him at night, he probably wouldn’t want to touch him like that. 

“Impressed yet again. I didn’t think you were paying attention when I told you about that, I thought you were too busy trying to avoid me.” He said, emerging in dark gray cargo shorts and an obnoxious bright teal-fading-into-bright pink button down with palm tree silhouettes dotting it. Eddie blushed. 

“I wasn’t—I didn’t mean—” He stammered. Richie cut him off with a laugh. “It’s fine. You were going through it and you needed some space. I mean, if you wanna talk about it we can, but you seem to have gotten over whatever it was you needed to get over.” He said, grabbing sunglasses off a small table by the door. Eddie followed him downstairs. 

“Sorry about that. I guess I was, uh. _Going through it._ ” He said. Richie shook his head with an understanding look. 

“Totally fine, Spagheds.” He grabbed his keys, throwing them into the air and catching them in the other hand in one swift motion. Eddie nodded. 

“Thanks for understanding.” He followed Richie out the door to the top of the steps that led up to the house, nearly crashing into Richie when he stopped abruptly. He held out an arm, elbow bent like a nobleman in a period film. 

“Ready, my dahling? We shall have to take the highway, for downtown is unfortunately quite backed up.” He said in a posh, Victorian-ish British accent. Eddie raised an eyebrow at him and he laughed, dropping his arm and heading down the stairs. Eddie followed and with that, they were off. 

With the wind whipping through his hair and Richie singing loudly and badly along to Cherry Bomb by the Runaways, Eddie felt like he was in a movie. Richie didn’t know all the lyrics, but he shouted the chorus lyrics quite enthusiastically, and Eddie laughed. He had had his doubts about being in a convertible on the highway of California with Richie driving, but he had to admit, this was fun. The song ended and Richie laughed, clearly having a great time himself. They arrived at the sandwich place shortly after. 

“So yeah, it’s fairly new so like 90% of their employees are people under thirty trying to ‘make it in Hollywood’ or whatever. They’ve also got a lot of all-natural shit, like quinoa sprinkled avocado on cranberry barley blend bread or whatever it is healthy people eat. Your kind of shit.” Richie said with a grin, opening the door for Eddie, who rolled his eyes. That was one thing Eddie had always found interesting. Richie could tell horrible jokes, use “your mother” in more insults than actual sentences, and have little to no filter at times, but he would always hold the door for you. “It’s a cool place, they have great stuff. Hence the line.” He said with a sigh. He shoved his hands into his pockets and shifted his weight from foot to foot and Eddie studied him attentively, almost not noticing when the line shifted forward. Eddie looked at Richie’s slightly rosy cheeks, his jaw, the way his glasses rested well on his face, which Eddie appreciated, but so often obscured his eyes, which Eddie didn’t. Eddie decided he could look at Richie forever. There was always so much to take in with him, and Eddie loved it. Richie noticed Eddie looking at him. “What?” He asked with a confused smile. Before Eddie could reply, though, a voice came from behind them. 

“Richie Tozier?”

They both turned and saw a handsome man in a suit, perhaps a bit older than them with salt and pepper hair, bright blue eyes, a chiseled model look. He was attractive, no doubt, and that put Eddie on edge, which he became even more so when Richie seemed to recognize the man. Richie’s eyebrows drew together and he cocked his head, looking almost more confused than Eddie. 

“Connor Bowers?”


	10. He Looked Like he was Barely Hanging On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aka The Appearance of Connor Bowers and the Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is a little long which is why it took so long for me to actually post, sorry, and there’s some mentions of period-typical homophobia, so if that’s a trigger for you, please tread lightly. No slurs, but still. Oh, and I have decided that paparazzi does Not Exist in this chapter lol. Anyway, enjoy :D

Eddie looked between the two silent men whose eyes were intensely locked, feeling very much like a third wheel. Connor let out a disbelieving laugh, which Richie returned awkwardly. 

“This is insane, man! Holy shit, it’s been forever. You never wrote, I never thought I’d see you again!” The stranger(or at least he was a stranger to Eddie,) said excitedly, moving closer with a brilliant smile. He ignored Eddie, eyes trained on Richie’s own. Richie scratched his arm and attempted a smile, but he only looked uncomfortable.

“Yeah, insane. I’m surprised you remember me at all.” He replied with a half-laugh. He  cleared his throat and Eddie shuffled his feet. To describe the tension as  _ awkward _ was an understatement. “W-what are you doing here, man?” Richie asked, voice strained. Eddie studied him in concern. He wasn’t usually like this. 

“Oh, I’m a lawyer for rich people so…” Connor waved his hand in the air in a “So I Came Here” gesture. “But yeah, it’s no big deal. I just can’t believe I ran into Richie Tozier! You look great man, you got  _ tall _ ! What’s new, what are  _ you _ doing here?” Connor asked, patting Richie’s bicep genially. Eddie grimaced. Richie gave a sarcastic laugh.

“I look like a dad at a luau themed barbecue trying his best, and I don’t even have kids. But I appreciate the sentiment.” Richie said gruffly. Connor laughed, a little too hard for Eddie’s taste, but he seemed genuinely amused. This, in turn, made Richie chuckle, a real one this time. Eddie decided that he did  _ not  _ enjoy the situation at hand. “And I uh...I live here.” Richie said, an underlayer of pride showing through the strange wall he had put up. Connor raised his eyebrows. 

“Wow, a Hollywood man. For some reason I’m not surprised.” He said with a grin.  Richie gave a small smile, this one less artificial than the others. Eddie felt his general annoyance begin to turn bitter. “Well I think the look suits you, you work it. You always did.” He looked at Richie with soft eyes, his expression something Eddie didn’t like seeing on another guy talking to Richie.  _ Not that Richie can’t talk to other guys, he’s not my boyfriend,  _ Eddie had to remind himself. He hated the way this was making him feel. Connor was just being nice, he was clearly a polite guy. Eddie had no reason to be filled with jealous rage. Richie shifted uncomfortably with blushing cheeks, never having been one to be able to take a compliment. 

“What about you, dude, you look like a movie star. You could’ve told me that and I would’ve believed it.” Richie returned, gesturing up and down. An interesting shyness had settled over him. Eddie raised an eyebrow. By this point he might as well have been in a completely separate room, looking in on the two through a small window. He tried not to let his jealousy eat at him from the inside out. Connor chuckled, but didn’t respond. The silence stretched for about four seconds before Eddie couldn’t take it.

“So, Bowers. I didn’t realize there was another one.” He spoke up, hoping his tone wasn’t too venomous. Connor looked at Eddie for the first time since the conversation had started. Richie fluffed the back of his hair nervously, eyes darting from Eddie to Connor to Eddie again. 

“Oh uh, Connor, this is my friend Eddie, he also grew up in Derry. Eddie, this is Connor, we hung out here and there for like a summer when he was visiting from Omaha. He’s Bowers’ cousin.” Richie explained, voice uncharacteristically quiet. Connor looked at Eddie in understanding.

“Ah, you probably knew my cousin, Henry.” He said, the bright look in his eyes never leaving. Eddie snorted. 

“That’s one way to put it.” He crossed his arms, giving up on any attempt at friendliness. Connor gave another laugh, which only annoyed Eddie further. Of course perfect rich lawyer Connor didn’t get offended easily. Of course he just laughed things off and didn’t sit and simmer and bottle up his feelings until they exploded out of him, something Eddie was all too familiar with.

“Yeah, we don’t really associate ourselves with him anymore.” He said with a sigh. For  the first time since he had met him three minutes ago, Eddie felt kind of bad for the guy.  _ He _ sure as hell wouldn’t want to be related to a guy like Bowers. 

“I don’t think anybody associates with him anymore.” Richie said offhandedly before looking at Connor in shocked concern. Did he know? Even if he did, would he be okay with Richie saying something like that? Eddie could practically hear the questions racing through Richie’s mind. But Connor only laughed, if a little sadly, before quickly moving on from the subject that was clearly touchy for all of them. 

“But yeah, of course I remember you! How could I forget the Street Fighter God of Derry?” Connor’s smile brightened as he switched topics, focusing once again on Richie, who gave a sarcastic “ha-ha” and shook his head good-naturedly. Connor laughed with him. “I’m serious, dude, you were like the only one that I could  _ never _ beat.” He said. Richie seemed more relaxed now, the smirk on his face no longer forced. 

“Yeah, well I did spend a lot of time in that arcade. Mostly hiding from—” Richie stopped abruptly, face falling. The nervous look was back, but he extinguished it quickly. Connor didn’t seem to notice. “Well, anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t write. I didn’t think you wanted anything to do with me. I didn’t even think you’d remember my name.” He said truthfully. Eddie had to admit, he was also surprised Connor had made it out of Derry with his memories of the place. The people in it. Connor looked at him thoughtfully, eyes tracing over Richie in a way that made Eddie’s skin crawl. 

“Well, I did.” His voice became little more than a whisper. “I do.” Connor continued to study Richie, who avoided his gaze. Connor shook his head slightly as if coming back to reality. “Uh, I gotta head out, but we should meet up sometime. For lunch, or something.” He piped up, flashing that winning smile. Eddie looked away, not wanting a man he barely knew to see how easily angered he was. Then again, he really didn’t like this guy, so he looked back with a full glare. “Here, my card.” Connor pulled out a business card from his wallet and handed it to Richie using only his pointer and middle finger, like the love interest in a fucking Hallmark movie. Eddie huffed. Stupid Connor with his perfect teeth and his perfect skin thought he was  _ so _ suave with his fancy business card and his expensive looking suit. Part of Eddie knew that he was being unreasonable, but Connor couldn’t hear his thoughts so he figured there was no point in not thinking them. Richie took the card cautiously and Connor smiled one last time. “It’s really great seeing you, Rich. I’ll see you around.” He said with a wink before swiftly exiting the sandwich shop. Richie didn’t return the farewell. Both Eddie and Richie watched him go until he disappeared out of their line of sight before turning back around and moving up to their spot in the line, which had shortened substantially. Eddie shoved his hands in his pockets, eyes trained on the shoes of the person in front of him, not really seeing. He felt his stomach boil with jealousy and was afraid that if he looked at Richie, he would be able to tell. Eddie didn’t want to offend Richie with his own problems. His possessive nature. The feeling was sickening. Not his jealousy, but that Richie had been hanging out with another kid one summer, a summer where he  _ could’ve _ been hanging out with Eddie. He wanted to talk about it, accuse Richie of...well he didn’t really know what, but he was angry. His heart was racing and his ears felt warm and the silence between him and Richie was deafening and he felt like he was drowning. 

“So—”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Eddie finally looked at Richie, whose own face had visibly warmed. Eddie couldn’t really tell what the expression on his face meant, but he looked like every single gear in his mind was turning at hyper speed. Eddie nodded and looked away again, busying himself with reading the menu board behind the counter. Richie was right, they did have the kind of shit Eddie was into. Which would be helpful if he could actually focus on reading and understanding human English words instead of thinking about Connor Fucking Bowers. Connor Bowers with his curly-but-not-too-curly dirty blonde hair that looked like it didn’t even need hair gel to look good. Connor Bowers with his briefcase and his well-fitting suit that made him look like he didn’t care about his appearance but also  _ coincidentally  _ always looked good no matter what. Connor with his blue eyes and his bright smile and his perfect teeth that Eddie wished he could just punch in. Connor probably wouldn’t even be mad about it, he’d probably pass it off as an accident. Eddie grumbled to himself. Connor with his everlasting niceness and apparent inability to get annoyed. That was the reason Eddie was so mad, really. Connor had everything that  _ he _ didn’t. He was tall, not as tall as Richie, but tall nonetheless. He was skinny and probably had washboard abs that you could balance a cup on. He didn’t look like he was trying his best just to smile. He wasn’t subject to the resting bitch face that Eddie fretted about so much after a girl told him he had it in college. Connor probably didn’t dwell on anything. He probably has never held a grudge in his life. Eddie couldn’t count his grudges on both hands. 

“Hi, welcome to Zoë’s Club, what can I get for you today?” The cashier’s overly saturated voice cut through Eddie’s thoughts like a double-edged sword. Eddie blinked and looked at Richie, who had an expectant look on his own face, at a loss. Richie smiled reassuringly. 

“I’ll have the pulled chicken chipotle sandwich and he’ll have uhh…the Annie’s Avocado Toast.” Richie filled in quickly, pulling out his wallet. 

“I can pay,” Eddie said quietly so only Richie could hear, the anger and jealousy that had seeped in through his pores finally converting to shame, like it always did eventually. Richie smiled considerately and shook his head, paying promptly. 

“Alright, here’s your number, your meal should be ready soon. Your name will be called and you can get it right over there. Make sure to bring the number stand so we know you’re taken care of.” The cashier said brightly. Eddie felt he detected some condescending undertones, but Richie ushered him to an empty table before he could call the worker out on his shit. Richie pulled Eddie’s chair out for him and smiled with a raised eyebrow.

“He wasn’t being condescending, he was just doing his job.” He said in a monotone voice, as if reading Eddie’s thoughts. 

“I wasn’t—he—that’s not what—I know that.” Eddie sputtered, crossing his arms and giving an exasperated humph. Richie laughed.  _ Alright, that was good, this is good. Richie’s coming back around.  _ Eddie thought. They waited in semi-awkward silence for their number to be called, Richie twirling the business card absentmindedly between his fingers. After the silence became too out of character, Eddie spoke up to try to get Richie to actually  _ talk _ . Be normal.

“So uh. How much were the tickets?” He asked, twiddling his thumbs. He didn’t know what the fuck was going on but it was awkward and he didn’t like it. Then he remembered he had just avoided Richie for three whole days and gulped. Had Richie felt this way for three whole days? Eddie wasn’t sure how he managed it. Eddie felt  _ awful _ and it hadn’t even been fifteen minutes. 

“Huh?” Richie said, finally focusing on Eddie instead of empty space. 

“For the premiere. You said you bought tickets?” He ushered, hoping Richie didn’t hear the desperation in his voice. Richie gave a sort of weird half-smile that looked out of place on his otherwise tense composure. 

“Oh, no, there were no tickets, Bill invited us. I just said that so I could tease you about Marc.” He said, continuing to flip the card over his middle knuckles at an increased rate. Eddie swatted Richie lightly on the back of the hand not holding the card. 

“Asshole. You’re an awful person, what was the point of that?” Eddie said, less of a question and more of a way to jolt Richie back into their normal dynamic. He did laugh, which was good. Progress. 

“Cause I love seeing you mad, Eddie baby, why else?” He said, smirking devilishly. Alright, that’s better, that’s the Richie that Eddie knew. He just wished he’d put that damn business card away. Eddie rolled his eyes. 

“You know I hate it when you call me that.” He said. Richie leaned his chin on his fists, elbows on the table like always, smirk still playing at his lips and eyes.  _ Alright, baby, he’s coming back, he’s coming back _ . 

“Aw, you love it,” (Eddie did,) “and you know it.” (This was true.) Just then, their number was called. Eddie gave Richie a brief condescending smile that turned quickly back into his regular grimace as he got up to get their food. Richie chuckled. 

“C’mon babes, smile like you mean it!” He called as Eddie made his way to get the meals, number stand in hand. He felt his grip tighten around it at the “request.” Richie really did think he could just say anything, huh? Even if it sounded like a ridiculous catcall a douchebag from the eighties would use to try to sound cool even though it just made him sound, in fact, like a douchebag. Eddie put the number stand down with more force than he probably should have and took a plate in each hand. Speaking of being in hand, Eddie’s... _ situation  _ was getting out of it. Richie in Asshole Mode(which was basically Richie most of the time,) should not have the power to make Eddie’s heart beat like a hammer or make his hands feel shaky. Maybe he was coming down with something.  _ Yeah,  _ the shoulder-angel Richie in his head quipped,  _ The Hots For Richie Tozier Syndrome _ . It said with a barking laugh. Maybe it was more of a shoulder-devil. Eddie gripped the plates harder as he made his way over to the real Richie, who was fiddling with the rubber bands he seemed to always have with him. Eddie put their plates down in their respective spots and excused himself to the bathroom to wash his hands(“For real this time,” he promised, remembering the incident at the Mexican place all too well.) 

In the bathroom, which Eddie was forever thankful for being a single, he studied himself  in the mirror. He noted jawline, not as sharp as Richie’s or  _ Connor’s _ , but still there. The way his dark eyes pierced the reflection of himself. Deep brown, hard and intense.  _ Boring,  _ he thought, remembering Connor’s captivating blue eyes. He studied his hair, straight, brown. _Boring_. He looked at the scar on his cheek, the scar tissue still a little tender if he touched it the wrong way, and felt a surge of anger towards Bowers. Eddie felt like he had been at least mildly okay before, not  _ ugly _ per se, but now with this…he felt like everybody was always looking at him, judging him, wondering. Eddie turned the tap off forcefully, hastily disconnecting himself from the mirror and making his way back to Richie, eager for distraction from his own head. 

“So Rich,” He said, sitting down. He hadn’t meant to sound so business-like, but he was in a weird headspace. Richie seemed to notice and chuckled.

“So Eds,” he returned in the same tone of voice. Eddie rolled his eyes. “Um, h-how is...writing...going?” He asked awkwardly. Richie looked at him with a confused smile.

“Whad’you mean?” He replied, taking a single leaf of lettuce from his sandwich and eating it appreciatively(if there  _ was _ such a thing as eating lettuce appreciatively.) Eddie tugged at the hem of his polo. 

“I mean for,” he gestured with one hand in a way that said “I don’t want to say it out loud but I’m going to pretend you know what I’m talking about.” Richie clearly  _ didn’t  _ know what he was talking about, so he dropped his voice so the other restaurant-goers couldn’t hear. “I mean for like, coming out.” He explained. Richie laughed and Eddie took a cautionary bite of his avocado toast, which was actually a lot more than just avocado on his toast, and found that it was actually really good. Richie knew him well, which was surprising since they had been separated for twenty seven years. 

“Oh uh, it’s good.” He said, not bothering to whisper like Eddie. “I’m hoping to do it on like Fallon or something, if I can get it. And also promote my show, but I’m nowhere near done with that.” He said. Eddie paused mid-bite and drew his eyebrows. 

“New show?” He asked. Richie scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. There was a slight blush underneath his glasses. 

“Yeah, I figured I’d get to actually performing comedy that I enjoy and that doesn’t involve nonexistent girlfriends. Started it almost a month ago.” He said, his voice soft. Eddie looked at him in shock. 

“ _What?_ Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” He jabbed, regretting his aggression when Richie looked at him like he had two heads. Eddie bet that Connor wouldn’t have reacted like that and mentally kicked himself. This was clearly not what Richie needed right now. “I mean, that’s great, but holy shit Richie. That’s a big thing!” He rectified, taking a bite of his toast to conceal his shame. Richie shrugged. 

“It just never came up, I guess.” He said, finally taking a bite of his own sandwich. Eddie rolled his eyes. 

“Well yeah, cause that’s not the kind of thing that just ‘comes up.’ Is this like a secret kind of thing, who else knows? Do your parents?” He asked, unable to stop his flow of questioning, something he knew Richie was probably used to. Richie’s looked darkened and he stayed quiet for a second. 

“No, they…they don’t know anything.” He said, busying himself with a particularly large bite of chicken sandwich. Eddie knit his eyebrows. 

“W—you mean  _ anything _ ? Like, about…it  _ all _ ?” He asked incredulously. Richie shrugged again. 

“I just haven’t gotten the chance to tell them. I figured they’d find out when the rest of the world did.” He said, avoiding Eddie’s eyes. Eddie put down his toast with a muffled clatter. 

“Rich,  _ what _ ? You told the Losers no problem, isn’t it basically the same thing?” He asked, feeling slightly out of line. Richie snorted. 

“No. First of all, it took me twenty seven years to tell you guys, and second of all, it was only easy because I knew that you guys would be fine with it.” He said, taking another leaf from his partially eaten sandwich. Eddie continued to try to get him to meet his eyes to no avail. 

“Well what about the public? You’re more willing to tell them than your own parents? I mean, I know it’s 2016, but people are still assholes.” He tried to soften his voice, but he couldn’t tell if it was working. Richie’s expression didn’t change and he shrugged again, shoulders hunched. 

“Yeah, basically. I know at least that some people will be chill with it and some won’t, and I’m cool with that. I don’t…I don’t know how my parents will react, and that’s kinda scary dude. It’s easier to tell people shit when you know how they’re gonna respond, and you can’t blame me for feeling that way because you know it’s true.” Richie said with an almost-glare. Eddie felt like the room temperature dropped ten degrees. He had to surrender. 

“I…yes, I know that. But don’t you think they’ll feel like you feel like you can’t trust them if you go about it that way? I mean, I think they’d rather hear something like that from you rather than a headline.” He said softly, not wanting to push Richie further. Thankfully, Richie seemed to consider this, but didn’t respond. Eddie ducked his head so he could force Richie to make eye contact with him, so he could see that he wasn’t the enemy. “Look, I know it’s not a race or whatever, but I’m just saying that I think they’d appreciate it more if you told them yourself. I mean, I know I did. And I’m pretty sure the other Losers did.” He said, Stan suddenly entering his mind. “Or at least the other Losers that knew.” He added quietly, not entirely sure why. Richie cocked his head before raising his eyebrows in understanding. 

“Oh, Stan knew. I mean, he knew until he didn’t, obviously, but he knew. I told him when we were like fifteen.” He said. Eddie looked at him with wide eyes. 

“Stan  _ knew _ ?” He said, the silent question of  _ Stan knew but I didn’t? _ hanging in the air. Richie nodded. 

“He helped me get through the shit I felt like I couldn’t tell you. It wasn’t ‘cause I didn’t trust you, I just…I was afraid you’d look at me different. I didn’t want to lose you.” He said, rubbing the back of one hand nervously. Eddie looked at him softly and thought about touching his hand reassuringly, but erased the idea promptly. That was weird, that would be weird, right?

“Richie, I’d never stop being your friend just because of who you are. I mean, unless you were a complete asshole or something, which you’re not.” He said as an attempt at a joke. Richie didn’t laugh.

“I know you wouldn’t now but, what about then?” He shot accusingly. Eddie opened and closed his mouth, realizing Richie wasn’t wrong. “With all the shit your mom said, how was I supposed to know she didn’t rub off on you. She’s why you’re such a hypochondriac, right, so why wouldn’t you think the same things as her when it comes to all that other shit.”

“Okay Richie, I get it, my mom was awful. I don’t need the reminder. Didn’t we already talk about this?” Eddie cut off, fists balled with handfuls of polo. Eddie was glad the shirt was already too big, or else he’d be stretching it. Richie rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“I know, I’m sorry, fuck I just—I feel like I’m always afraid. And that I’ve always been that way, and that I’ll never  _ stop  _ being that way, and it just makes me so  _ mad _ . I know that’s not a reason to snap at you, I’m sorry. Can we just…talk about something else?” Richie said, clearly embarrassed. Eddie nodded quickly, whispering a quick forgiveness. They sat in silence for a moment before Richie spoke up. “Wait, so you said back in New York you’ve been staying with a friend? That’s shocking, I didn’t know you had friends. Please, indulge me.” He said with a smirk. Eddie glared at him but relaxed, glad their usual banter was making its return.

“Oh my god. You jerk. He’s a coworker—”

“Oh so I was right? Damn, I was really holding out for you, I actually thought you talked to people other than your childhood best friends for a second there.”

“—and yes, I’ve been staying with him, it’s not fun. Why are you bringing this up?” Eddie asked rhetorically. Richie shrugged and took a bite of his sandwich.

“You didn’t want to talk about your shitty mom so now we’re talking about your shitty coworker, it’s not my fault ya boring.” Richie said plainly, and Eddie had to fight not to laugh. 

“I am _not_ boring, I have friends in New York! I talk to people!” He argued. Richie raised his eyebrows, unconvinced.

“Oh yeah? Name one. One cool New York friend.” He smirked and Eddie shifted in his seat, mad that he actually had to do some mental digging to think of one.

“Um…Sharon?” He said more of a question than an answer. Richie raised his eyebrows further.

“Mm. And where did you meet her?” He said teasingly. Eddie scratched his arm sheepishly.

“Uh…work?” 

“Doesn’t count, try again.” Richie cut off, laughing a little at himself. Eddie grimaced and thought more. “Face it Eddie, I am and forever will be your coolest friend.” He said, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head in an exaggerated gesture. Eddie raised an eyebrow and laughed sarcastically. 

“You are most definitely _not_ , I’m friends with Beverly Marsh.” He said pointedly, taking a satisfactory bite out of his avocado toast. “And Ben Hanscom. And Mike Hanlon. And Bill Denbrough.” He said with a cheeky grin. Richie held up a finger. 

“Ah ah ah, nope, Bill admitted to having a rat tail in college which automatically makes me cooler than him, Mike tricked us into coming back to Derry and high key drugged Bill which, even though it was for a good cause, still makes me cooler than him too, I’m convinced that Ben still listens to New Kids on the Block unironically and even his insanely beautiful Greek statue physique can’t pull him up from that, and Beverly…yeah, you got me there, I got nothing on Bev, she’ll be cool as shit forever.” Richie said, pushing up his glasses. Eddie laughed. 

“You’re a goofball.” He replied, shaking his head. Richie put a hand on his chest in mock scandal, briefly looking at Eddie with an overly-offended expression before biting into his sandwich. 

“That’s how I get all the guys,” he said knowingly through a mouthful of chicken, dropping the scandalized motif. Eddie pulled a face. 

“You’re gross.” He replied, wiping his mouth with one of the napkins he kept in his pockets at all times. Richie gave a close-mouth laugh and shuffled seat closer, leaning an elbow on the table and resting his chin in the crook of his hand. 

“So ok, you don’t like your roomie and you can’t stay in your own house ‘cause of the Mega Bitch, so where are you gonna go next?” He asked, finishing off the sandwich. Eddie still had a whole piece of his toast left, which he eyed warily. It wasn’t the type of thing you could take home, but he was starting to get full. Maybe he could power through it. He’d feel worse if he let it go to waste. Was he thinking way too in depth about avocado toast to avoid answering Richie’s question? Perhaps. (Yes.) “You could always just stay with me. Move in ‘til you find a permanent place. Or just move in period.” Richie said, his voice taking on a soft quality. Eddie looked up at him. 

“You…you’d do that for me?” He asked, overwhelmed by the emotions Richie’s generosity caused. Richie shrugged casually. 

“Yeah, I mean, if you want that. You would just have to like bring your clothes and shit, but you wouldn’t have to worry about furniture or whatever, which is cool. Mean, there’d be the issue of your job, which I only just thought of, this wasn’t really something I planned on asking you, I’m totally on a whim right now, but I’m sure you could figure it out, you’re a smart guy, I just—”

“Okay.” 

Richie did a double take. Eddie chuckled. “W—okay?” He asked, still clearly a little shocked from being cut off mid-ramble. Eddie nodded and gave a warm smile.

“The company I ‘analyze risks for’ for has a California branch, I’m sure I could transfer. Plus, there’s nobody else I would rather live with, even if it’s temporary.” He said, the excited look that danced across Richie’s face causing Eddie’s heart to flutter. “I have to talk to Myra anyway, so that’ll give me a chance to tell her I’m getting my stuff. I probably won’t be able to actually move in until the divorce is completely officialized or whatever, but if you’d be down then…I’d really appreciate that.” He said, eyes flicking over Richie’s features.  _ Richie, I love you _ . 

“Fuckin’ awesome, man, I don’t know how many times I wished you could’ve come and lived with me when we were kids. This is like any best friend’s dream come true.” Richie said excitedly, clearly trying and failing not to smile like he had just won a million dollars. Eddie found that he couldn’t suppress his own smile. He never could around Richie. Richie’s smile and laugh were the only contagious things that Eddie appreciated. His day could be going awful and it would flip completely around if he just heard Richie laugh. He wondered if Richie knew. If he knew how much joy he brought just by existing. Eddie thought about the way Connor had smiled at Richie,  _ because  _ of Richie, and grimaced. It wasn’t any secret that Eddie didn’t smile often and that when he did he always looked mildly worried.  _ He _ couldn’t help that there wasn’t much to smile about. Well, at least until now. He never felt pressure to smile and appear happy and shiny all the time around Richie and the other Losers, which in turn made him smile more. It was only them that saw it, though. Eddie hoped that Richie didn’t call the number on the business card that lay flat on the table, menacing and silent. Eddie eyed it as he finished he’s toast. He didn’t know what would happen if Richie called that number. He found himself falling into a downward spiral of what-ifs about Connor, feeling his blood rush in his ears. He knew it was irrational, to have so much hate for someone he interacted with for five minutes, but he just couldn’t  _ help  _ it. 

“Alright,” Richie drummed on the table, snapping Eddie out of his worries. He hadn’t even noticed Richie get up and put their plates and trash away. “Ready to go? We’ve got a red carpet to get ready for.” Richie pocketed his glasses and replaced them with his sunglasses, a look that Eddie mentally kicked himself for thinking of as cool. Richie did  _ not  _ look cool, and that was a  _ fact _ . He nodded and they swiftly left the sandwich shop, Richie keeping his head down just in case. Eddie bit his lip and got in the car. He was really in it, wasn’t he. 

“Call me! Something something, call me, call me any, any time, call me, I don’t know the words,” Richie half-sung-half-yelled as they made their way back to Richie’s house. It had felt more like home in the four days that Eddie spent there than all of the years he had spent living with Myra in his own house. “Oh my  _ god _ this is such a good  _ song _ .” Richie growled through his teeth over Blondie, still blasting out of the radio. Eddie laughed. 

“You’re really feeling the eighties today, huh?” He asked, studying Richie as he mouthed the words, nodding his head slightly in time with the music. 

“Fuck yeah, it’s a classic! American Gigolo, ya know? This song gets me _pumped_.” He said, drumming his hands on the steering wheel as the drummer over the radio gave a particularly intense fill. Eddie couldn’t help but laugh again. “Did you know that Richard Gere was technically my first celebrity crush, but that it didn’t last long ‘cause I thought it was weird since he had the same name as me, so I just straight up stopped watching Richard Gere movies for literally like fifteen years? Isn’t that weird?” He said, the wind and music nearly drowning him out. Eddie chuckled. 

“I did not know that, no.” He responded. He was promptly convinced that he could listen to Richie talk about Richard Gere for three hours straight and he couldn’t get bored. It was scientifically impossible. 

“Yeah, but then Chicago, you know the musical? That came out in 2002, and I saw it in the theater with my girlfriend at the time cause she had wanted to see it, and I could tell that she was afraid that I’d be attracted to all the sexy 20s ladies in it, ya know, Catherine Zeta-Jones, etcetera, but really I was just thinking the whole time ‘Oh fuck, Richard Gere got old and stayed hot? What am I gonna do?’ Cause he was like fifty one, right, so I was uncomfortable like the whole time he was on screen.” Richie said, and Eddie threw his head back in laughter. Imagining younger, aspiring comedian Richie Tozier experience gay panic for fifty one year old Richard Gere was enough to make him snicker. The song ended and Richie turned down the radio, his energy dialing down with it as the opening notes to My Sharona began. Eddie closed his eyes and let the wind and sun wash over him, only cracking one open when he heard Richie clear his throat. “I uh. I’m sorry about before. With Connor. I just...you know, I didn’t expect to ever see him again, and it kind of threw me off.” He said. Eddie closed his eyes again, taking in the feeling of existence.

“It’s fine, I understand.” He said shortly. He didn’t really want to talk about Connor, who Eddie knew would be the enforcer of his insecurities for many months to come, but Richie seemed to have other ideas. 

“He was my first kiss.” Richie confessed. Eddie’s eyes flew open and shot to Richie, who seemed like he was holding his breath, waiting in uncomfortable anticipation for Eddie to react. Instead, Eddie stayed quiet. He was okay, he could handle this. He didn’t feel like every cell in his body was on fire with pure aggression. _Jealousy_. Eddie was fine. He was also a liar, but he decided to tamp that away and try to focus on how _not_ angry he was. Richie cleared his throat again. “It was uh. It was _that_ summer, so as you know I spent a lot of time avoiding Bill and his weird panicky bullshit, and that’s when I met Connor. And it was great, you know, I had someone to play Street Fighter with, I had someone that I felt actually connected to outside of the Losers. Someone who didn’t know who I was. I could be anyone I wanted with him.” Richie’s voice became strained as he spoke, and Eddie found his anger melt into empathy. “And then one day we were hanging out behind the arcade, and he just…kissed me. And it was great. I mean, it was still an awful kiss obviously, I was thirteen, had the biggest glasses known to man, and I had already convinced myself that I’d be sad, gay, and alone forever, so I was super awkward about it. But it was awesome. It wasn’t who I had wanted it to be with, but it also wasn’t _not_ with who I wanted it to be with, you know?” Eddie didn’t know, but he let Richie continue anyway. “Anyway, then we went inside and played Street Fighter, and I…I had beat him. He said he had to leave, but I asked him not to. I asked him if he wanted to play another round.” Richie’s voice sounded like it was _made_ of regret. “Then the Bowers gang showed up.” His grip on the wheel tightened. Eddie couldn’t see Richie’s eyes behind his sunglasses, but he sounded broken, like he was going to cry. Maybe he already was. Eddie wouldn’t judge. “And Connor just fucking changed _completely._ He didn’t even have to _think_ , it was like that.” Richie snapped, the sound lost to the wind. “He—he knew Bowers was there before I did. He said I wasn’t his _fucking_ _boyfriend_.” Richie’s shoulders were tense and hunched. “And I know, I _know_ that he was just scared. I was too, I was fucking terrified obviously, but he didn’t have to call me—” Richie couldn’t get the end of the sentence out. Eddie didn’t blame him. “He didn’t have to say the things that he did. He chose Henry. Because he was scared. Which I…I understand. I just figured since he—since we—I just—the only other time I cried as hard as I did that day was at the quarry, when I realized I had almost lost you.” Richie said, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his uneven breathing. Eddie raised his eyebrows, taking in the whole story. The last sentence. _So that’s why Richie had cried at the quarry._

“Damn.” Was all Eddie could muster for a reply. Because now his rage was no longer the product of jealousy. No, now he hated Connor almost as much as he hated Henry, and he _really_ fucking hated Henry. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth again, he would say something he didn’t mean, like that he wanted to kill Connor. Or worse, that he would say something he _did_ mean, like that he wanted to kill Connor. _Richie, I love you._

“Yeah. Damn.” Richie said, not taking his eyes off of the road. “I don’t think I forgive him.” He added, voice quaking. Eddie exhaled deeply out of his nose.

“Me neither.” They sat together in comfortable silence, driving on and Richie took out the business card from his breast pocket that also held his glasses. He held it between two fingers for a moment before relinquishing his grip, the card lost to the wind. Eddie looked at him in mild surprise before scoffing. “Richie, you shouldn’t litter.” He said, knowing that it would get Richie out of the mental place that he clearly wasn’t enjoying being in. Richie shrugged and made a face. 

“It’s paper, it’s made of trees. I was just releasing it into its natural habitat.” He said, mouth twisting into his signature smirk when Eddie chuckled. After that, they returned to their normal dynamic and Eddie finally felt like he could look at Richie again without feeling shame or anger or anything else because of Connor, who had turned out to be less of a perfect do-gooder than he had made himself appear. Eddie settled into the passenger seat comfortably. Perhaps he’d never tell Richie how he felt, but if he could continue to have moments like this, sharing a satisfying car ride or bonding over music or just taking part in the back-and-forth that was so frequent in their friendship, then he wasn’t sure he needed to. For Eddie, this was enough. For Eddie, Richie was always enough, even if he couldn’t have him romantically. Eddie smiled to himself, closing his eyes once more. 

_ Richie, I love you. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I chose that line for the title not only because it’s one of the only remaining lyrics from the song, but also because of the shot of Richie in the arcade when he’s remembering the interaction with Connor and the Bowers gang because he really does look like he was barely hanging on


	11. Then Her Eyes Saved His Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Eddie get into a fight...sort of?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey fam, sorry that this took a hot minute, but it’s a long one so yeah. TW for panic and descriptions of violence, if you’re not cool w that stuff, please tread lightly. I hope you enjoy :D

Richie pulled into a spot on the street of the venue, vaguely whistling the tune to Flagpole Sitta despite the fact that the song had ended ten minutes ago. Eddie looked Richie up and down, admiring the fit of his outfit(which Richie’s stylist had thankfully approved,) and the way his bow tie helped bring out his eyes. Richie looked at him before getting the car. 

“Alright. Fancy movie premiere, here we come. How do I look?” He asked, a slight smile settling on his face. Eddie looked him up and down again and before adjusting his tie, which made him laugh, and nodded. 

“Fancy movie premiere ready. How about me?” He returned. It was no secret that he was incredibly nervous, but he at least knew that he looked good. He just wanted to hear the words from Richie. He had brought one of his nicest suits on Richie’s request, which now made much more sense. He still couldn’t believe Richie lied just to tease him about his jealousy of Marc with a c, which still occasionally simmered under the surface late at night when he was too tired to battle his intrusive and irrational thoughts. 

“Better than me. You're gonna make me look out of place and underdressed." Richie said with a raised eyebrow and that intoxicating grin. "Which should be slightly concerning since I’m the one who’s actually semi-famous, but I’ll be too busy thinking about how hot you are to worry about that.” He tacked on with a wink, getting out of the car before Eddie could react. He felt the temperature in his cheeks rise about a hundred degrees and hooked a finger in the collar of his dress shirt, suddenly feeling very constricted. Eddie got out of the car and briskly trotted up to Richie, who had made a surprising amount of distance in the four seconds that Eddie’s brain had malfunctioned. Once inside, Eddie finally felt a little back to normal and the sensation in the pit of his stomach seemed to settle down. However, it was soon replaced with the uncomfortable stress he felt every time he was in a large space with a lot of people. And a lot of extremely famous, successful people at that. There were high ceilings and bright lights and incessant camera flashes and Eddie didn’t know where to look or who to look at and he felt _extremely_ disoriented. For a moment, he thought about fleeing, high tailing it back to the car without even a word to Richie, but then he felt a hand grip the cuff of his suit jacket and he was shocked into a strange calm. It was Richie, and he knew before he even looked, because he had felt the feeling before. Had imprinted it into the files of his mind. Hee was brought back to the three doors with Richie, staring into an endless closet, Richie’s hand wrapped fully around his wrist, protecting him and asking for his protection at the same time. Eddie followed Richie in the strange haze, barely even feeling his feet hit the floor. They were in the thick of it, in the lenses of the flashing cameras, in the eyes of the stars, the chatter around them drowning out Eddie’s thoughts. He didn’t even realize Richie was no longer holding onto his jacket sleeve until he noticed his presence on the opposite side of him. They soon slowed to a stop, part of a large crowd of people, most of which were ellmorous than Richie, that viewed the cast, posing for the cameras on the red carpet. Eddie noted the woman that had to be Audra Denbrough. Distantly, he wondered where she and Bill were at in their relationship. He remembered Bill saying something about possibly fucking up his entire marriage in the group chat, but he couldn’t quite remember. _Huh, hope that doesn’t make me a bad friend_ , he thought dazedly. He didn’t even hear Richie talking until his eyes drifted to the man’s lips after seemingly becoming bored with the movie’s stars, flashing their too-big smiles for the media and the cameras.

“Huh?” He asked, too groggy to feel embarrassed about not paying attention. Richie gave him an encouraging smile. 

“I _said_ , this stuff is gonna go on for a little while, and then we’re gonna go through those doors and it’s basically gonna turn into like a regular movie-going experience except everybody in the audience has enough money for closets bigger than college dorms, and then after that there’s gonna be more of this and then the afterparty, which Bill did invite us to by the way, and that is going to be upstairs in the lounge.” He explained. Eddie looked lazily in the vague direction of the doors that Richie was talking about, not really seeing them but knowing that they were there. He had to admit, the way Richie was taking charge and seemed to have everything in order was pretty impressive(and a little hot.) A measly “Okay.” was all he said in response. 

“And there are journalists and photographers everywhere, so we might be asked some questions, maybe not, I don’t know, but if we _are_ , you don’t have to worry about it. I’ll just say that we’re friends with the writer and that should be enough to bore them into going away.” He added with a grin. Eddie looked up at him and made a barely-conscious attempt to return it. 

“Okay.” He said again, wishing very much that he could just lean a little closer, closer, until the space between them was no more. “I can’t believe it’s already October second.” He added distractedly, not entirely sure where the observation came from or why he voiced it. Richie gave him a confused smile. 

“Yeah. Are you alright, Eddie?” He asked, and Eddie thought he might melt. The concern in his voice, the softness of it that he rarely showed in public, the way he said Eddie’s name. It brought the same feeling as sitting by a warm fire, wrapped in the softest blanket you own, drinking hot chocolate that wasn’t scorching but hadn’t yet gone cold. Eddie put it on the increasingly long list of Things he Loved About Richie. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. It’s just—” Eddie gestured to the scene around them. “It’s kind of a lot. Kinda wish you’d told me this stuff before, in the car or something.” He half-jabbed, finally feeling the daze begin to wear off. He immediately regretted the complaint, seeing the look that flashed across Richie’s face. 

_Oh yeah, great way to let him know you love him. Criticism and bitchiness._ Shoulder-Devil Richie said. 

_Well good thing I’m not trying to tell him I’m in love with him. I’d rather be a bitch of a friend than an abandoned weirdo who fucked up his most important friendship by openly confessing his undying romantic feelings._ Eddie thought back at it. It stayed silent after that. Richie nodded and cleared his throat, the slightly hurt look gone from his face but not his eyes. 

“Yeah, it always is, I’m sorry about that Eduardo, I should’ve—I should’ve thought of that.” He said, cheeks tinged with embarrassment. He avoided Eddie's eyes, looking around the large crowd that they occupied before focusing his gaze on the floor and eventually Eddie once more. Eddie, who felt like the worst friend on earth. Richie seemed to just want to move on, so he didn’t apologize for the blunt comment, but he still felt awful. “Wanna try to find Big Bill? I know we’ll probably see him at the after party, but I figured we could give him our congrats before as well.” Richie offered. Eddie tried for a reassuring smile and nodded. Richie nodded back and once again led him through the crowd, unfortunately not holding onto his sleeve like before but still providing a somewhat calming presence. Eddie still sort of felt like he wanted to turn into an inanimate object so he wouldn’t have to worry about shit like appearance and how to talk to people, but it was the more background noise type feeling that he usually got in places that had lots of people with high expectations. “Oh, I see him,” Eddie heard Richie say excitedly. Eddie attempted to look across the crowd but it just so happened to be the exact moment where literally everyone around him was at least two inches taller than him, which proved to be a bigger obstruction than he’d ever admit out loud. 

“I can’t see him,” he strained, raising himself briefly on his toes. Richie chuckled and he grimaced, shooting the comedian, who continued to laugh, a glare. “Stop laughing! It’s not my fault you’re like a ridiculously tall...leprechaun.” Eddie said, unable to muster a better insult and not entirely sure why a leprechaun was the first thing that came to mind. Perhaps it was the fact that Richie had eaten Lucky Charms for breakfast when the egg plan was botched. Richie only laughed harder. 

“A leprechaun? That’s a new one. I guess I kind of see it, I’ve sorta got a uh...leprechaun-ish nose. And eyebrows, I guess. The black hair makes it a bit less accurate, but I like your creativity. Stay in that space, you might be onto something.” He said, clapping a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie rolled his eyes and Richie grinned. “Come on, we don’t wanna miss him.” He steered Eddie in the apparent direction of Bill, who came into the shorter man’s vision after the crowd dispersed ever so slightly. 

“Bill Denbrough!” Richie called through the crowd, and Eddie felt the heat of embarrassment settle over him. If it’s one thing he hated, it was the feeling of being stared at, and Richie wasn’t helping by drawing the most possible attention to them. Or at least, that’s how Eddie _felt._ “Hey, Big Bill! Over here!” Richie punctuated, finally getting the novelist’s attention. Bill laughed.

“Hey, Trashmouth! Eddie! Here I’ll—” Bill made his way over to them from where he had been standing, strangely far from Audra, in the area dedicated to the director, writer, and other higher-ups from the production staff. “Hey guys!” He said happily once they met in the middle, the guests around them unfazed. 

“Billiam, I gotta say, this isn’t the kinda thing I’d expect you to go for.” Richie said, pushing up his glasses. “Very boujee, I’d thought the lack of flannel would’ve scared you off.” Bill laughed and shrugged. Eddie smiled at the memory of all of Bill’s flannel he’d had as a teen, something he’d forgotten about until now.

“It wasn’t, but Audra was pretty big on the idea so…anyway, I’m so glad you guys could make it!” Bill replied, clearly wanting to ignore the awkwardness of whatever it was that went down with him and Audra. 

“Well we’re glad to be here.” Eddie said with a warm smile. “Very excited to see your work.” He gave a thumbs up before realizing he probably looked stupid and quickly tried to figure out what to do with his hands. 

“Yeah, I’m excited to see the end. I still haven’t read the book, but I wanna see if the film adaptation lives up to the standard. I’ll let you know, but if the ending doesn’t suck I’m gonna give you a bad rating on Yahoo.” Richie interjected. Bill laughed and Eddie rolled his eyes, settling on putting his hands in his pockets in what he hoped looked casually suave.

“We’re sure it’s gonna be great, don’t pay attention to him. He’s like a wolf, if you make eye contact the situation just gets worse.” Eddie advised playfully, to which Richie snickered. 

“Well if it’s any consolation, I’ve already started another novel, and I know for a fact that the ending will _not_ suck.” Bill said with a proud smile. Richie regarded him with slight surprise.

“Ooh, intriguing. Maybe I’ll actually force myself through reading that one. You know, to be a good, supportive friend.” He offered. Eddie swatted his shoulder and he chuckled, Bill rolling his eyes with a smile. Just then, one of the many prowling media journalists approached the novelist. 

“Mr. Denbrough! We’re with Writers’ Lives Digital Magazine and were hoping you could answer some questions.” The young, mousy-haired man said, holding out a digital recorder. A woman that looked closer to their age accompanied him, notepad and pen in hand. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Eddie wondered why he needed a recording _and_ notes on the conversation, but his brain was primarily driven into thoughts of how to remove himself from the situation, especially when he noticed the woman look Richie up and down non-discreetly. 

"Uh," was all Bill could get out before the journalist rushed into asking questions. Eddie stood awkwardly off to the side as Bill got wrapped up in conversation with the Writers' Lives representative. 

"So uh…what do we do in this kind of situation?" He whispered to Richie, leaning in closer to him from where he stood by his side. Richie seemed at a loss. 

"I honestly don't know, these red carpet people can take anywhere from two to like ten minutes to ask their bullshit, but you can never tell what it's going to be." Richie confessed, also leaning in. Eddie felt his pulse pick up when their shoulders pressed together, but he ignored it. He could spend _one_ evening not thinking about Richie or his shoulders or any other aspect of him in a romantic way. Right? 

"And who are you with tonight?" The woman's voice cut through to Eddie, causing him to zone back in. When he looked at her, she was looking at Richie. Eddie felt the oh-so-familiar boil of jealousy take place in his stomach, and he had to remind himself that Richie was literally gay and that even if he wasn't, he still probably wouldn't notice the way the woman was eyeing him. Eddie thought back to the Winter Ball of their freshman year. He and the other Losers had gone as a group, but during the dance Eddie had noticed Susan Halbrook looking at Richie the same way this woman was looking at him now. Susan had even tried talking to him, but Richie was so oblivious that he hadn't even realized she was trying to ask him to dance. Eddie chuckled to himself. If only Richie knew the way he made some people feel.

"Oh, uh, these are just some close friends of mine." Bill explained shyly. Eddie silently thanked him for not introducing them further. 

"' _Just_ some close friends of yours'?" Richie said in a scandalized British accent. "William, I'm offended." He turned towards the woman, accent going strong. Eddie _would_ be mad at Richie for making the interaction last way longer than it needed to, but he would make an exception because of the way Richie's voice dipped low and smooth when he used the British Guy Voice. Eddie added _that_ to the ever-growing list of Things he Loved About Richie but Would Never Say Out Loud. "I'll have you know that I am the famous and esteemed comedian Richie Tozier. My quick wit and highly sophisticated jokes are known around the world." He straightened his suit jacket and made a face like he was on the cover of a Bond movie poster. The woman laughed. 

"Richie Tozier, I knew I recognized you. I'm a big fan of your early work, I'd love to talk more about it with you sometime." She said with a longing gaze. Richie shuffled his feet awkwardly. "So Richie Tozier is friends with Bill Denbrough? How did that happen?" She asked, full attention on Richie now. Bill and the young man had pretty much completely broken away from them. For the second time that day, Eddie felt like a third wheel. 

"Well, all three of us grew up together." Richie said, dropping the accent. "But tonight is about Big Bill for us, we're here for support. You know, like emotional, that kind of stuff. He gets very cry-ish with stuff like this, you should've seen him when he saw _Titanic_ for the first time." He joked. The woman laughed again. Eddie crossed his arms. "I'm kidding, but yeah, no, we're just here to see our buddy's hard work consummate. I mean, this is his premiere, so tonight I'm just a friend of the writer, you know?" Eddie appreciated the fact that Richie directed the spotlight back to Bill, even if the woman wasn't actually asking him any questions like she was supposed to be. She seemed like she was going to say more when the other journalist appeared next to her and whispered something in her ear, which she nodded to and mouthed a response. 

"Alright, thank you for your time. It was a pleasure, Richie Tozier." She said abruptly, giving Richie one more up and down look before the pair left with no explanation. Richie and Eddie found their way to Bill again, who had drifted surprisingly far. 

"So Billy, any other Losers coming?" Richie asked, seemingly dropping the whole thing with the journalist from his memory completely. So he just wasn't going to acknowledge how much that woman was clearly going for him, huh? Eddie couldn't help it, but he felt a strange sense of pride because of it. Richie may not notice _his_ feelings, but that's because he never notices anybody's. At least, when they're romantic. Also, Eddie was intentionally hiding it, but that's besides the point. 

"Nah," Bill replied. "Mike was gonna come, but he just opened a bookstore in Florida, which we actually uh...we're sharing an apartment there until I find someplace permanent." Bill said sheepishly. So it didn't work out between him and Audra. Richie nodded thoughtfully. "And Bev and Ben had a thing, so they couldn't make it." He said, shrugging it off despite clearly being a little bummed out. 

"Right, of course, Bev and Ben, power couple of the century." Richie said with a knowing nod. "Or, as I like to call them, Benverly." He gave a haughty laugh and Eddie rolled his eyes. 

"How are you famous." He said, a statement more than a question. Richie looked at him with a flattered expression, puppy dog eyes. 

"Aw, Eds, you think I'm famous? Bill, Eddie thinks I'm famous, how sweet is that?" He said in an overly saccharine voice. Bill laughed and shook his head. 

"Oh, you two. Alright, the theater doors are opening in ten minutes, so I gotta go with the other people that the big-wigs pay too much. I'll see you guys at the afterparty?" Bill asked, already walking away.

"Sure thing, man." Richie called after him, then turned to Eddie. "'Oh, you two'? What the fuck does that mean?" He demanded quietly. Eddie laughed.

"I have no idea." He replied, uncrossing his arms, which he had forgotten he'd crossed in the first place. 

"It sounds like something a grandma would say." Richie's eyes widened and he shook his head in disbelief. "It's official. Florida is turning Bill into a grandma. We all saw it coming, but we didn't know that it would happen so soon." He said solemnly. Eddie chuckled, feeling a bit like his younger self because, let's face it, Richie really hadn't changed much over the years. Eddie thought back to that day in the clubhouse, when Mike said that he had always wanted to go to Florida. Eddie remembered the hammock, the way he and Richie would always fight over it, how he would force his way in and Richie would laugh and squabble and yell profanities. How, despite all this, Richie would still let him stay, let him study the covers of the comics he read and ask him incessant questions about it or talk about nothing for what had felt like hours on end. Eddie remembers a distinct moment when he looked at Richie reading his comic and thought to himself _this is my favorite person in the whole wide world._ Eddie had the jolting realization that his feelings for Richie may not be as recent as he had previously convinced himself. Eddie shook his head and came back to reality, reminding himself that the night was about Bill. He gave Richie what he hoped was an encouraging smile and nodded in the direction of the screening room doors.

"Come on, let's get to the theater. I don't wanna miss the opening trailers." He joked, and Richie threw his head back in laughter. 

It was a few minutes into the second act when Eddie noticed Richie looking at his feet. Confused, he waited a few more minutes to look back at Richie again. When he did, Richie's eyes were on the screen. Confused even further, Eddie looked forward again but leaned back so that he could keep Richie in his peripheral. Sure enough, Richie turned his line of sight down to the floor in front of him just as the music began to build. Richie's hands were gripping the arms of the theater seats like he was holding in for his dear life. Tentatively, Eddie touched Richie's forearm. Richie’s eyes shot to him, his motions jerky and awkward. 

"What's up?" He whispered, his oddly calm voice completely not matching his tense 

demeanor. Eddie drew his eyebrows together in concern. "Are you…Richie, are you scared?" He whispered back, the content of the movie falling away as his attention became focused only on Richie, who blinked at him for a few seconds before reacting. His expression turned into something strange, as if it was painted on his face. He looked at Eddie like he had just asked him if he wanted to go skinny dipping in Lake Michigan right that very moment. 

"What? No, of course not. Don't be silly." He said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat and looking back at the big screen. Eddie took his hand away and pursed his lips. 

"Alright, well just know that it's okay if—”

"I'm _not._ " Richie cut him off, a little too loud for a person in a movie theater, even if he was still technically whispering. Eddie chewed the inside of his cheek. 

"Okay. Just checking." He said, turning back to the screen. He didn't bring it up again, even when he did notice Richie look down at his feet more and more as the plot's pace became more rapid and the scenes became more daunting. It wasn’t until a particularly intense jump-scare when Richie sucked in a sharp gasp that Eddie looked at him again. His hands still had the ends of the armrests in a vice grip and his brows were knitted as if in deep concentration. “Richie,” He whispered again, genuinely concerned.

“I said I’m _not_ scared, Eds, stop _pestering_.” Richie grumbled, nervously chewing at his bottom lip. Eddie felt his cheeks warm with frustration. 

“Fine, you’re not scared, you don’t have to be an asshole about it.” He snapped back. They didn’t speak again until the movie ended. The house lights went up and Eddie blinked, vision turning spotty and blurred from the brightness. Richie had an uncharacteristic grimace on his face. He looked how Eddie had felt at the beginning of the premiere. “You still up for the afterparty?” He asked gruffly, still not entirely forgiving Richie for being a dick. Richie shot him a condescending look and Eddie nearly cringed. He didn’t know _what_ was going on between them but he didn’t like it one bit. He supposed it had been a whole day of ups and downs, what with the bonfire eggs and Connor Bowers’ special guest appearance. If Eddie was honest, it all tired him out. Not physically, but he felt like if he had to interact with one more person he’d give up on all attempts at proper etiquette. Perhaps it would’ve been different if Richie wasn’t acting like such an ass, but that wasn’t how the night was shaping up to be, so Eddie was only left wondering.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Richie looked intense, the way he had at the Townhouse bar when Mike had explained the ritual needed to take down Pennywise. Eddie returned the look and shrugged, buttoning the top button of his suit jacket. 

“It’s been a long day. But we can go to it, let’s just go. Forget I asked.” He replied, the tension in the air palpable. They ventured back out into the main gathering space, where more in-depth and professional interviews were being conducted. They soon found Bill, who looked as tired as Eddie felt. 

“Really great job, bud. Proud of you, man.” Richie said dully, pulling Bill into a short hug. “We still invited to the afterparty? I wouldn’t be surprised if I’ve already gotten myself banned.” He said, attempted joke falling uncharacteristically flat. Bill thanked him and gave the affirmative, but Eddie could tell that Richie felt off. Okay, whatever was going on needed to _stop_ . Eddie was beginning to not only feel annoyed, but also uncomfortable. Alas, they traveled upstairs after about twenty minutes, the lounge basked in Rich People Party Time lighting. Eddie stood awkwardly by one of the sources of light, a strange futuristic looking…lamp? Eddie didn’t really know what to categorize it as, but either way he was standing next to it and he wasn’t happy. He didn’t know where Richie was, but he told himself that he didn’t care. He didn’t have to, they weren’t obligated to stay with each other every second of the night. He could go a few minutes away from Richie. It was probably good for him, knowing how _much_ Richie could be. But then he saw Richie approaching him once more and he felt like the weight of the world was lifted off of his chest. Part of him was annoyed that even mid-silent fight, he still relied so much on Richie, but he was mostly just glad not to be alone anymore. Bill was off talking with some editors, so without Richie, Eddie really was completely alone. 

“Old fashioned.” Richie stated, handing Eddie one of the two drinks in his hands. Eddie took it with a nod before eyeing the other drink Richie held. 

“Thought you weren’t drinking.” He said, an accusation more than anything. He took a long sip of his own drink, not caring that Richie couldn’t indulge. He needed to face his problems head on, and Eddie wasn’t about to make it any easier for him. What Eddie really wanted, however, was to make everything easier for Richie. He wanted to strip him of his trauma and anxieties and insecurities until he was happy, really _truly_ happy. He wished that Richie didn’t have to struggle to feel like he didn’t need to rely on alcohol for one reason or another. He wished Richie would learn to love himself as much as Eddie loved him. Richie gave a humorless half-laugh and looked down at his glass before tapping the shoulder of a passing party guest. 

“Hey, you want this?” He said, voice rough and quite un-Richie. Eddie felt his grip on the glass tighten. Richie really wasn’t having a good night, and Eddie could _feel_ it. It was an ugly feeling that settled itself in his bones and slowly poisoned him from the inside. He wanted to go home, back to Richie’s house, where everything would turn back to normal. The partygoer, probably an up-and-coming actor who was just beginning to realize the power that came with being famous, grimaced at him and kept moving. “Oh, well fuck you too.” Richie called after him and lifted the glass before turning back to Eddie, who raised an eyebrow. 

“You sure you’re not already tipsy?” He asked, knowing he wasn’t helping the situation get any better but feeling unbearably trapped, like he couldn’t say what he really wanted to. _Richie, let’s go home, I think we both need it. Richie, let’s just go to bed, this party blows anyway. You’re my favorite person in the whole wide world and I just want you to feel better._ Eddie almost snorted out loud at the thought. Richie gave another sort-of-chuckle. 

“I wish. I don’t suppose you want this?” He asked, offering up the drink. Eddie shook his head and finished his drink, the strong taste more unfamiliar than he’d admit. So Eddie wasn’t a big drinker, there was nothing wrong with that. Still, he didn’t want to seem like too much of a prude in front of Richie. 

_He’s literally seen you at the best and worst moments of your life. I think he already knows that you’re a prude._ Shoulder-Devil Richie piped up. 

_But I’m_ not _a prude._ Eddie argued. All Fake Richie did was laugh in response.

“Alright, I guess it’s time to find Bill then, cause apparently I’m not allowed _one_ cheat day.” Richie mumbled as he surveyed the animated crowd of celebrities and excessively wealthy folk. Eddie shot him a glare, which he promptly ignored. “There he is. Bill! Do you want my alcoholic beverage?” (Richie pronounced beverage like bever-aj,) “I forgot not drinking meant also not drinking alcohol that doesn’t actually taste like alcohol!” He called with a grin. Slightly more normal for Richie, but still not fully there. Bill laughed and shook his head in amusement from across the lounge area where he was seated at the bar, before making his way over to them. “Good thing Spagheds was here to keep me in check. It’s like a symbiotic relationship. He helps me stay sober and I don’t get drunk and embarrass him in front of the rich and famous.” Richie said, handing the glass to Bill, who laughed. So he didn’t notice the mask that Richie had put up. Eddie raised an eyebrow, reminding himself that Richie was better at hiding things than he seemed. Bill accepted the drink graciously.

“Thank you, my dear Trashmouth, and may the night of merriment continue with much partying, even if you can’t get drunk out of your mind.” Bill said in an attempted English accent. Richie shook his head. 

“I think you should just stick to writing.” He said with a wise nod that Bill copied. 

“I think you’re probably right.” The novelist replied, and the two broke into a fit of laughter, which Eddie couldn’t help but join in on. Eddie still wanted to go home, but at least this made the vibes feel just a little less wack. Bill was then beckoned away by who Eddie had to assume were the editors from before and he was alone with Richie again, the act dropped. Richie’s shoulders slumped and he leaned his back against the wall where Eddie had previously been waiting and shut his eyes. Eddie didn’t blame him. 

“Hey,” he said softly. Richie’s eyes fluttered back open. He looked tired. “Are we still fighting?” Eddie asked, too spent to sound frustrated. Richie shrugged. 

“I hadn’t realized that we had been fighting.” He said dryly. Eddie folded his arms, the out-of-place feeling that had settled in his stomach the moment he set foot on the venue becoming persistent. 

“Well, are you feeling better now?” He jabbed, all tenderness receding. Now Richie was just being annoying. 

“I hadn’t realized I had been feeling worse.” Richie replied, a slight grin playing at his lips. So he was being annoying on _purpose_. 

“Oh fuck you,” Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes. Richie chuckled half-heartedly before drawing his eyebrows together and letting his expression fall, suddenly devoid of amusement. 

“I need a drink.” He said, unmoving. Instead of getting one, however, the pair decided to leave, much to Eddie’s relief. They gave a quick goodbye to Bill and were soon on their way. Even if he and Richie still had this weird energy between them, he’d rather have it in the comfort of Richie’s home than among strangers. The car ride was basked in uncomfortable silence, a jarring comparison to the car ride to the premiere, in which the two had been quite boisterous and lively, singing along to Flagpole Sitta and other such songs of their choice. Eddie chewed the inside of his cheek in thought as the California scenery whipped by, dark and muddy. Perhaps this was kind of a good thing. After all, they were going to be living with each other soon. They were bound to get into fights then, so might as well see what it’s like now, establish a means of resolution for future arguments as the opportunity arose. Eddie loosened his tie in frustration. If only Richie would just _talk_ to him, then they might not have ever gotten into the strange and more-than-mildly annoying situation. It's hard to have an argument when you don't know what the argument is _about_. Richie pulled into the driveway without a word, putting the car into park and getting out of it with a little too much aggression in his motions. The tension between them unfortunately followed them into the house and intensified when Richie trudged up the stairs with heavy steps, not so much as a glance at Eddie. Eddie meandered into the kitchen and pulled out his phone for the first time since the morning, a rare occurrence for him, and studied the message from Myra that he had left unanswered. After a few moments of deliberation, he sent the text that had been in his mind since Richie made his offer to house Eddie for an undetermined amount of time.

  
_Alright. Just don’t take my personal shit. I’m moving to California._

Eddie had to admit, it felt good to send. Chewing his lip, he thought of Richie and decided to try to talk to him, at least see what’s going on. His confidence grew with every step towards Richie and was soon outside his bedroom door, formulating in his mind what he would say once he was inside. 

“Rich?” He asked with a double knock on the closed door, hoping he didn’t sound too domineering or abrasive. He heard what sounded like a choked sob and his determination was rapidly replaced with concern.

“Don’t—” Richie’s voice was high and panicky, unusually strained. Eddie heard him clear his throat through the door, attempting to bring his voice down to its normal cadence. “Don’t come in.” He said, a warning. Eddie drew his eyebrows together and didn’t move from his position outside the bedroom. 

“Richie, what’s going on bud, talk to me.” He coaxed, suddenly painfully aware of his own heartbeat. He heard another strangled almost-cry and a sniff followed by heavy breathing and made a decision. “I’m coming in, buddy.”

“No please, I—don’t—Eddie,” Richie pleaded as Eddie opened the door. What was presented to him was…a mess, to say the least. Richie was on his knees on his bed, sitting back on his calves. His suit jacket was only half on and the top three buttons of his undershirt had been undone. His tie hung loosely around his neck and his shoes had been abandoned in the middle of the room, strewn a few feet apart from each other. Richie’s cheeks were wet and blushing an angry red and his eyes were rimmed with a similar color. His hair looked like he had run his hand through it one or two hundred times and his chest was rising and falling heavily with his erratic breathing. The most noticeable part of the setup(other than the distressed Richie at the center of it,) was the various objects and scraps of paper that surrounded Richie on his spot in the bed. Eddie looked at Richie in confusion, too shocked by the sight to get out any words. “I don’t want you to see me like this.” Richie choked out, taking of his glasses and wiping at his eyes. 

“Rich, I…” Eddie fell away, at a loss. I what? I love you? I want to help you feel better? Eddie didn’t say any of these things and instead approached Richie slowly until he was at arm’s length, the bed and odd items that decorated it the only buffer between them. Richie sniffed and pressed the forearm that was still in the suit jacket against his eyes, which Eddie assumed kept tearing up, and took a shaky breath. 

“I—this happens sometimes, I can handle it. Please go away, Eddie, I’m—I don’t want you to see me this way.” Richie enforced, looking away after he lowered his forearm. Eddie didn’t go away but instead joined Richie on the bed, careful not to crush any of the items that were laid out around him. Richie wiped his eyes again and cleared his throat, giving a broken attempt at seeming stable. “Seriously, I’m fine. I really appreciate it, but…I’m a big boy, I can handle it myself.” He said with a strained chuckle, another traitorous tear sliding down his cheek. Eddie wiped it away sympathetically. 

“Why didn’t you tell me, Rich?” He asked softly, letting his hand drop to his lap, afraid that if he let it linger he would accidentally reveal all of his secrets or do something else equally stupid. Richie shrugged but stayed silent. “I thought you were just being a dick before, I didn’t realize you were on the brink of a panic attack.” Eddie said, attempting to coax eye contact out of Richie, who laughed. It was slightly weighted, sad, but it was at least his first genuine one of the night since the movie showing. 

“My dad didn’t name me Richard for nothing.” He said with another quiet laugh that led into a broken hiccup. Eddie gave a quiet laugh and fiddled with his cuff. “But no, this one snuck up on me. I thought I’d just be a bitch the rest of the night and that it’d blow over by the morning, but then my brain was like ‘what if you forgot all of the most important people in your life again’ and I just could _not_ handle it.” Richie explained with a wet sniff. Eddie chewed the inside of his cheek, his concern growing. 

“You said this has happened before?” He asked tentatively. Richie nodded and shrugged his jacket all the way off. 

“It’s the same every time. I’ll be having a fine day and then suddenly I’m hit, y’know, with like memories and wicked intense fear and shit.” He ventured, re-positioning himself so he was sitting with crossed legs. “That’s why I have all this stuff. Keep it in a shoe box in my closet for when I get scared.” He gestured to the collection that surrounded him, which Eddie finally took time to look at closer. Stan’s letter was what stood out most, some of the paper wrinkled and tear-stained. A lot of it was pictures, mostly polaroids, and Eddie noticed one that nearly made _him_ tear up. It showed him and Richie around age eleven, Richie making a funny face with and Eddie rolling his eyes. His arms were around Richie, clinging on as if he were afraid to let go. Eddie didn’t remember taking the picture, but he could feel the love the two felt for each other emanating off of it. _You are my favorite person in the whole wide world._ “Yeah, I’ve got a New Kids on the Block CD for Ben,” Richie said, pointing out an area that had more Ben-centric pictures and a Hanscom and Associates business card. “And then for Mike I put some Old Spice as a joke because he looks exactly like the dude from those Old Spice ads, a key chain I got in Florida, and an animal rights pin.” Richie went through the items bestowed upon each Loser. Bev had a pack of cigarettes, the brand she and Richie used to always share, a necklace that Richie says he stole from her but really she let him do it, and a flower that she had pressed for him. Stan had a birdwatching guide, some puzzle pieces, and a wooden figurine he had whittled for Richie, and Bill had a paper boat, a worn out baseball cap that Richie actually _had_ stolen from him(he had always wondered where that hat came from), and a copy of his first novel.

“Wait, I thought you said you didn’t have any of his books.” Eddie had said upon seeing this, raising an eyebrow. Richie shrugged with a sheepish smile. 

“I may have perused a few once I got back home.” He replied with a tired grin. Then they came to Eddie’s section. It had the most photos and mementos by far, some of which included a flashcard that said LOSER with the S crossed out with a V like Eddie had done to his cast the year Pennywise attacked, a bracelet of Eddie’s that Richie had asked if he could keep when they were around nine, a list of songs that reminded him of Eddie, and a math assignment that Eddie had doodled extensively on. 

“Richie, when…” Eddie was at a loss for words as he studied the collection. He saw Richie shrug in his peripheral. 

“The first time it happened was like three weeks after Derry Part Two, Electric Boogaloo, so I guess around then.” He said factually, humor inching its way back into his energy. Eddie was too mystified to laugh. He looked at Richie in shock. 

“So you just—Richie why didn’t you come to me? I exist! I’m right here! I would’ve helped you know that you remember us.” He said, perplexed. Richie laughed. “I’m serious, Richie!” He enforced, still staring at the man in awe. 

“I told you, I didn’t want you to see me like this!” Richie said, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “It’s embarrassing.” He mumbled, a small smile still playing at his lips. 

“Richie, I think we’ve been through enough together that says that you don’t ever have to feel embarrassed in front of me. So this just happens randomly? You seemed fine before the movie.” Eddie asked tenderly. Richie shook his head. 

“Usually it’s triggered by something, but sometimes it comes out of nowhere. I don’t always figure out the trigger until a while after, though.” He explained further, eyes darting to and from Eddie’s own. “I think it was...just, y’know, with the friend in the movie...y’know, when he—” Richie’s breathing began to pick up and he hugged his knees to his chest. 

“Rich?” Eddie comforted.

“When he got— _fuck_ , I swear to God if I don’t stop crying soon—when they couldn’t fucking save him.” Richie rubbed at his eyes again, his bottom lip quivering almost imperceptibly. “I just couldn’t stop seeing it.” He said, voice becoming strained again. 

“Seeing what, Richie?” Eddie asked softly. He wished, he _wished_ that he could just make everything better for Richie, but something told him to press on. Richie’s chest rose and fell unevenly as he sucked in sharp breaths. “Rich, it’s ok, just breathe.” Eddie instructed, placing a hand on Richie’s wrist. 

“I couldn’t stop seeing _you_ .” Richie finally said, wiping at his cheeks with his free hand, body trembling ever so slightly. “And I knew logically that you were right next to me, _obviously_ , but after that I just couldn’t stop thinking what if I…what if I had actually lost you? I can’t—I couldn’t—y’know, then all these crazy thoughts started coming like they always do, like w-what if you aren’t real, y’know, like what if you really _did_ …y’know, and I was just too fucking traumatized to handle it so I just made you up or something, and I know it sounds insane and that’s why—I”

“Richie, Richie,” Eddie interrupted, noting that Richie was starting to look like he had when Eddie had first walked in. He leaned closer, taking Richie’s hand from where it was gripping onto his knees. “Here, look.” He said, pressing Richie’s palm with fingers splayed against the center is chest. “Feel that?” He kept his voice soft. Richie nodded, angrily wiping at his cheeks as tears continued to fall. “Yeah, that’s me. That’s my heart beat. I’m here, I’m alive. Here, take a deep breath.” He instructed, keeping Richie’s hand pressed against him and demonstrating the steady inhale. Richie followed suit and they stayed silent, inhaling and exhaling slowly together, until Richie nodded assuringly. Eddie took his hand from on top of Richie’s, but he kept it against Eddie’s chest, warm and large. “Yeah. Better? Can you…can you tell me what you were talking about?” Eddie studied Richie as he put his glasses back on with one hand, cheeks still red with panic. 

“The deadlights.” He replied, voice raw and gravelly. “In the deadlights. Bev, uh. Bev said that she saw all of us die. I did too. But it wasn’t everybody, it was just you. You were above me, you were so excited. He thought you had killed It. And then suddenly there was blood coming out of your mouth, and you just, you looked...I couldn’t…I couldn’t save you. You were stabbed all the way through, there was blood on me, _your_ blood. On my face, my glasses, and I could _feel_ it and I-I-I _couldn’t_ save you.” He sucked in a sharp breath, shaky on the exhale. Eddie returned his hand to the top of Richie’s, pressing it harder into his chest. “The way you said my name…you didn’t even sound scared. Just…let down. And then I saw you above me, saying the same things you just had about killing Pennywise, and I realized I had a second chance. I didn’t think, I just had to get you out of there. And I know I did, but I just can’t stop the thoughts of ‘What if I didn’t?’ y’know? It’s just so fucking agonizing to think that I almost lost you, and I know that it may just seem like ‘oh but Richie, you didn’t lose him so why don’t you just think about that instead of crying your eyes out eat every drop of a hat’ but it’s just not that fucking easy, okay? I don’t know why but I can’t—I can’t control it.” He growled, moving his hand to grip Eddie’s collar. Eddie thought back to every time Richie gave him a lingering touch or a close-pressing hug in the past four days. No wonder Richie was always so open physically affectionate contact. He was afraid that if he let Eddie go untouched for too long, he’d disappear completely. Eddie pulled Richie into a tight hug, slightly awkward from their respective sitting positions but no less tender. 

“Thank you for telling me, Richie. Do you, uh. You can say no obviously, this might be a crazy thing to say, but do you want to sleep in my room tonight? My bed’s like a mile wide so it wouldn’t be weird or anything, plus we did it all the time when we were kids, so it’s not like we’re not used to it.” Eddie offered after pulling away. Richie regarded him for a moment with a strangely shy smile. 

“I—normally I would say something like ‘Geez Eds, buy a girl some dinner first,’ but that actually sounds really nice. I was just gonna watch BoJack Horseman until I fell asleep, but your option is sounding a lot better than that right now. You sure you don’t mind?” He said, removing his tie with a cautious look. Eddie nodded vigorously.

“Of course, Richie, I wouldn’t offer it if I wasn’t sure.” He said, getting up and stretching. “I’ll go get changed…or do you want help putting this stuff away?” He asked, eyeing Richie as he unbuttoned his dress shirt. The way his fingers worked nimbly despite slightly shaking, the light hair that led into the sleeve onto his forearm, the contours of his knuckles…they were the kind of details that Eddie fell in love with every time he noticed them. 

“Nah, that’s okay Eds. I’ll meet you in there. It’ll give you time to do your hundred and twenty seven step nighttime routine anyway.” He said blandly, Eddie feeling his familiar grimace return. Richie smiled up at him as if he hadn’t said anything and Eddie rolled his eyes, unable to not smile. Soon they were both in their pajamas, staring at the well-made guest bed. 

“So uh, I usually sleep on the left side, but if you want me to sleep on the right…” Eddie ventured after a few moments of silence. 

“No, no, I usually sleep on the right, so it’s…yeah, it’s good.” Richie said with an awkward delay, both of them still adjusting to the familiar feeling that they had always gotten during sleepovers. Eddie only nodded in response and pulled back the covers. It was something Eddie hadn’t felt in a long time, the feeling of going to bed with your best friend. Your favorite person. They both got into bed and adjusted themselves adequately, backs to each other and a significant amount of space between them. Eddie couldn’t help but wish he could move closer, could feel Richie drape an arm around him, press their bodies flush against one another. 

“G’night, Eds.” Richie said, voice hoarse but optimistic. Eddie smiled without opening his eyes. 

“‘Night, Trashmouth. See you in the morning.” He returned, wishing that the morning would come soon so that he would no longer have to feel the pain in his chest that being so close yet so far from Richie brought. The heartache that came with being in the same bed as Richie but not being able to even touch him. Sometimes heartache is easier to endure from a distance. Eddie learned that the hard way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope you liked this one cause idk when the next one is gonna be up so this might be all you get for a while lol, just an fyi


	12. Promise Not To Break My Little Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie finds that the more time he spends around Richie, the less self-control he has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is another one with some sexy stuff, a little more graphic than before but still not too bad, if it seems repetitive then that’s probably because it is lol. Oh and tw for slur use, it only comes up once a little before the halfway mark. I personally like this chapter and I hope you enjoy too :D

Eddie blinked awake, noticing first the time (6:47 in the morning, to be exact,) and the heavy presence beside him almost immediately after. Richie must have moved closer to him throughout the night because now it felt like he was only a few inches away. With a rush, Eddie realized that Richie’s hand was resting comfortably on his waist, heavy and limp. Careful not to wake Richie up, Eddie turned around slowly until he was laying on his other side, Richie retracting his hand in his sleep during the process. His cheeks still had some remnants of tear stains on them, but he looked peaceful. His eyelashes cast fluttery shadows across the tops of his cheeks and the morning light accented the sharp but elusive curve of his cheekbones well. His eyebrows had set in a way that made him look like he was in deep concentration and his lips were slightly parted, the pink standing out among his pale skin and dark stubble. The blankets were bunched low around his waist and the arm that had been draped onto Eddie’s waist was now bent so that his hand was completely underneath his pillow. Eddie attempted to discreetly lift the covers over Richie’s shoulder, pausing when Richie adjusted himself again. Eddie eventually got the blankets to cover him fully, relaxing when Richie didn’t awaken. At least, Eddie thought he hadn’t, but then the corners of his mouth turned up in a sleepy smile, his eyes still unopened. 

“Thanks, Spaghetti.” He said quietly, his voice heavy and gritty with sleep. Eddie’s heart skipped a beat. He looked away, blushing and forcing his mind to stop racing. So Richie had a sexy morning voice. Eddie could handle it. He was a forty year old man, not some teenage girl pining over whatever pop star was topping the charts. Eddie took a breath and looked back at Richie, who’s hair was sticking up in all directions. The smile was still tugging lightly at his lips. His eyes fluttered open, the intricacies of his irises completely visible without his thick glasses. “Y’lookin’ at me?” He asked with a chuckle, a sleepy daze cast over him. Eddie turned so that he was flat on his back, staring at the ceiling as warmth spread up his neck. 

“Maybe. How’d you know?” He replied sheepishly, chewing the inside of his cheek. He really needed to break that habit. He heard Richie laugh quietly again and felt him move, and when Eddie looked over he had his glasses on. 

“Just could tell. See something you like?” He asked, sitting up so his back was against the headboard and he could look down at Eddie, forcing him into eye contact. Eddie felt his blush intensify and sat up and pushed himself back until he was side-by-side with Richie. 

“You seem better.” Eddie ignored the fake flirtatious quip. “You looked pretty rough last night.” He said. Richie huffed. 

“You could say that again. I feel way better now, mostly thanks to you, which thank you, by the way. What time is it?” He asked, grabbing his phone and checking the time himself. “Holy shit, 7 o’clock? This is the earliest I’ve woken up in like three months.” He commented, eyebrows raised. Eddie gave a short, silent laugh through his nose. 

“That shouldn’t be an accomplishment.” He said, receiving an exaggerated eye-roll from Richie. 

“Killjoy. I have to call my parents anyway, so at least I’ll be staying up for a reason.” He said, getting up and stretching his arms above his head, making the weird noise you make when you stretch. Eddie wasn’t sure if there was a word for it, but he was _sure_ that it was a universal phenomenon. “Normally I’d just go back to sleep and wake up at noon or something.” He said with a smirk, meandering tiredly into the guest bathroom. Well, Eddie supposed he could start calling it _his_ bathroom. He still had to schedule the move, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to start calling certain parts of Richie’s house his own. He got up and imitated Richie, stretching his arms and legs with yoga-esque motions. Richie emerged from the bathroom wiping his hands on his cartoon-skull patterned sleep shorts, to which Eddie scoffed. 

“Towels exist for a reason, dipshit.” He said, pretending not to feel the metaphoric electricity that sparked between them when they passed each other as Eddie headed into the bathroom. After using the bathroom and washing his face he found Richie sitting on the bed, phone in hand and chewing his bottom lip. He was looking down at the device like it had just given him really bad news, but the screen was black. “What’s happening?” Eddie asked, causing Richie to look at him with mild surprise. 

“I’m uh. Trying to psych myself up. To call my parents, I mean.” He replied, gesturing with the phone. Eddie turned his head to the side in curiosity and Richie cleared his throat. “I thought about what you said yesterday and I’ve uh...I’ve decided to take your advice.” He explained. “If I can actually work up the courage to just fucking make the call.” He mumbled, fluffing the back of his hair nervously. Eddie raised his eyebrows. If he was being honest, he hadn’t thought Richie was actually going to do it. At least, not so soon. 

“Oh damn, okay,” Eddie sat next to Richie, trying to think of how to help him get the courage that he needed. Richie nervously pumped his leg, mind clearly racing. “Just uh. Just take a deep breath and...and _do_ it, y’know? Like ripping off a bandaid.” Eddie said, making an encouraging gesture with his fists. Richie gave a short laugh. 

“Okay. Yeah, okay. Ripping off the bandaid. If I can survive a murderous sewer clown twice, I can come out to my parents.” He affirmed, switching the phone on and finding the contact. He paused for a moment, thumb hovering over the call button for a moment, before he pressed it decidedly, chewing his lip again. He brought the phone to his ear and gave Eddie a tense thumbs up when the other end picked up. “Hey dad, is mom there?” He asked, gripping the fabric of his shorts. “Yeah, everything’s fine. H-how are you? Good, that’s good. I sound nervous?” Richie laughed anxiously and Eddie chewed his cheek before touching the man’s wrist reassuringly. “Well, I kinda am. There’s uh. There’s something I gotta tell you guys. So um. You’re probably wondering why I’ve never really kept a girlfriend o-or anything like that...it’s uh. Um. Shit, sorry I just—” Richie took the phone away and took a deep breath, putting it on speaker phone and looking at Eddie knowingly. He wanted Eddie to hear their reaction.

“Like a bandaid.” Eddie whispered with an encouraging smile. Richie squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip.

“Um. Okay. I’m...gay.” He said, holding the phone in between the two of them. Eddie could feel Richie holding his breath as the phone only delivered silence. Then, after a handful of agonizing seconds, Maggie Tozier’s voice came through.

“Oh. Alright.” Was all she said at first. Richie’s eyes darted to Eddie, filled with something close to fear. Eddie squeezed his wrist consolingly. 

“J-just alright?” Richie’s voice was stricken. “Is...what’s the general consensus here, I sort of need you guys to actually react. Like, _right_ now, I’m kinda freaking out.” He pleaded, eyebrows drawn. 

“Well it’s not that we don’t support you, of course we do. We’re both very happy and proud that you feel comfortable sharing this with us, but it’s just that we’re not very...surprised.” Wentworth Tozier cut in. Richie’s expression quickly melted into confusion. 

“W—you _knew_?” He asked in almost exaggerated confusion, back straightening. Maggie laughed lightly. 

“We’re your parents, honey, we figured it out eventually. You did a good job of hiding it for a while though, I was impressed.” She said. Richie visibly relaxed, the fear in his eyes essentially completely gone. 

“Oh, I’m glad that my self-repression was awe-inspiring for you guys.” He joked, laughing along with his parents. 

“You know what I meant, Richie. So Eddie _is_ your boyfriend, right? That’s why he’s staying with you?” Maggie’s voice was optimistic. Eddie raised his eyebrows and took his hand away from its spot on Richie’s wrist. He found it endearing that Richie talked to his parents about him, but he’d never say it out loud. Richie began to laugh disbelievingly until he was full-blown cracking up. He shook his head as he tried to compose himself.

“Oh my god,” He said, still giggling. “Oh _wow_ , that is…I’m flattered that you think I could score such a hot piece of ass, but no, Eddie is not my boyfriend.” Richie’s cheeks were pink, likely from laughing so hard, and Eddie felt his own cheeks warm as the faint feeling that had been in the pit of his stomach all morning intensified. 

“Language, Richard.” Wentworth said, laughing despite his attempt at being stern. “How is Eddie anyway?” He asked. Richie continued to smile.

“He’s good, he’s actually here with me now, you’re on speaker phone.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, he’s all red. I think you embarrassed him.”

“I think _you_ embarrassed him.” Maggie chimed in. Eddie nodded, glaring at Richie. 

“She’s right. You’re right, Mrs. Tozier.” He said towards the phone. The two Toziers laughed, Richie joining in. Eddie heard a doorbell ring through the phone. 

“Oh, I hate to cut this short but Lucille and Jim are coming over for brunch, I think that’s them.” Maggie said brightly. Eddie smiled.

“Thank you for telling us, son. Now, I’ll admit, sometimes we might not…fully grasp everything at first, but you’ll always be my boy.” Wentworth said warmly. Richie nodded as if he were actually in the room with them. 

“Yeah, I figured. I mean, I was just gonna be like ‘they weren’t lying every time they called me a fag in school,’ and just leave it at that, but if you ever wanna ask questions or talk more about it, I guess we could do that. If you want, I mean.” Richie said, and Eddie cringed slightly at the use of the slur. 

“Rich, you shouldn’t talk like that.” Wentworth said seriously, and Eddie saw a streak of frustration run through Richie’s eyes.

“What? It’s what they said. I didn’t control that shit.” He mumbled, but Eddie was unsure if either of the Toziers heard since Maggie jumped in with a quick farewell.

“Alright, Richie, we love you. Call us later if you’re free. Don’t torment Eddie too much!” She said brightly, and the look in Richie’s eyes was back to normal. 

“I can’t promise that. Alright, love you. Thanks for not disowning me!” Richie said cheerfully, and the call clicked to an end. Richie looked at Eddie with excited surprise, at which Eddie gave a soft laugh. 

“That went well.” He offered. Richie smiled, still looking mildly astonished. 

“That went _really_ well, holy shit,” He exclaimed, unable to wipe the smile off of his face. Eddie couldn’t either, especially when Richie pulled him into an appreciative hug. “Thanks, Eds.” He said, not pulling away. Eddie chuckled, relishing in the feeling of Richie pressed so close. 

“Why?” He asked, wishing he could have kept touching Richie, holding onto him, even after he pulled away. Richie shrugged shyly.

“Couldn’t have done it without you.” He put simply, letting himself fall back down on the bed, Eddie following suit.

“Why not?” He pressed, propping himself up with one arm so he could look at Richie properly. “What, did you think they’d be mad or something?” Richie studied Eddie from below, presumably thinking of how to respond. 

“Yeah, I guess. I mean...not really. I don’t know.” He said, reaching up and combing a stray piece of Eddie’s hair into place. Eddie had to fight not to lean into the touch, but he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering. Imagining what it would be like to shut his eyes, feel Richie’s fingers thread their way through his hair until his hand was cupping the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Eddie decided that he was safer if he was flat on his back. “I guess I was just scared that they would be disappointed or something. Like, that I’m never gonna settle down nuclear family style. Or that I was lying for so long. Or for literally any other reason.” Richie said, going back to staring at the ceiling with Eddie. The ceiling was nowhere near as nice to look at as Richie, but it didn’t cause a rush of not-so-pure thoughts that ran the risk of embarrassing Eddie into oblivion, so that was good. “I guess the bottom line is that I’m afraid of disappointing the people that matter to me most.” Richie punctuated, an air of realization in his voice. Eddie didn’t exactly know how to respond, so he just knocked his hand against Richie’s. The comedian chuckled. “Huh, who knew talking to you would be like therapy.” He said, and Eddie gave a short laugh. 

“I just asked you why you felt the way you did.” He said, looking at Richie, who’s eyes were half-lidded, still sleepy. 

“Exactly. That’s basically what my therapist does. Ever thought about going into psychology?” He asked jokingly, getting up and shoving his hands in the shallow pockets of his sleep shorts. Eddie stayed on the bed, taking time to quickly look Richie up and down as he made his way to the door. His calves were muscular, surprisingly so, and his thighs were smooth and well-portioned, slightly thicker than Eddie’s. Richie had nice legs, to say the least. Eddie got up and went to the windows to fiddle with the shades, fearing that if he checked Richie out any longer he’d begin to think thoughts that he did _not_ wish to have so early in the morning. Or be caught, which was infinitely worse. “Alright, I guess I’m gonna go make breakfast. Want anything?” Richie asked, still a little sleepy-sounding. Eddie still had to do his morning stretches (stretching every morning was a large part of his routine, as it should be for any forty year old, in his mind,) which he was glad about. It would give him time to clear his head without the distraction of Richie and his nice legs. 

“I gotta stretch, but sure, I’ll just have whatever you’re having, as long as it doesn’t have too much sugar in it.” He asked, refusing eye contact as he felt Richie watching him attentively from the doorway. 

“Stretch?” Richie’s voice sounded genuinely curious, and Eddie couldn’t help but turn around to see if Richie was sincerely asking or just preparing to make a mediocre joke, like he had at the Jade when Eddie had explained his occupation. Richie’s head was turned slightly to the side, one eyebrow raised slightly in interest. Eddie couldn’t help but admire the fact that Richie was actually inquiring about something that Eddie hadn’t previously thought he’d be fascinated by. 

“Yeah, I stretch every morning, it helps me wake up. Plus, it reduces soreness and tension in the muscles and helps sustain flexibility.” He replied matter-of-factly as he began to make the bed. “Or whatever, it’s just something I do.” He tacked on somewhat shyly. He didn’t want Richie to think he was _weird_ or anything because of how much he legitimately enjoyed stretching in the morning. 

_He already knows you’re weird, dipshit._ Shoulder-Devil Richie said. Eddie grumbled, getting fed up with the fact that the exaggerated caricature of Richie that lived in his mind was making more and more frequent appearances. _He doesn’t care, it’s probably why he’s still friends with you. You can be weird together._ Fake Richie said, and Eddie was surprised to find that he actually made a good point. 

“Oh, that’s cool.” Richie said plainly, a shyness similar to what Eddie had just been feeling oddly threading his voice. Eddie remembered a moment when they were about fifteen when he had begun to develop interest in exercise(despite his supposed asthma, which Richie had already begun to doubt despite Eddie’s own insistence that it existed,) and Richie had given the same reaction, a strange drawing in, like there was something else he had wanted to talk about but just didn’t know how. 

_  
I’ve been thinking of getting some weights. Maybe start…I dunno, working out or something. _

_Okay._

_I just don’t wanna end up forty looking like I’ve let myself go, ya know?_

_Sure._

_Is…that’s it, you don’t have…anything else to say?_

_Yeah, I guess. Just thinkin’ bout how Sonia would react. Doesn’t she think gyms and working out are like the leading causes of heart disease or some shit? Cause of your ‘asthma’ or whatever?_

_Mm. Good point. I guess I’d just have to keep it secret._

“D’you…would you like to join me?” Eddie asked, coming back from the short memory. Richie shrugged, but an unmistakable glint of excitement had entered his eyes, if only briefly. 

“I dunno. Is it hard?” He asked, moving into the room anyway. Eddie raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s stretching.” He said dryly, and Richie pulled a mildly offended expression. 

“Yeah, and? I’m clearly not on your level for this kinda shit, as embarrassing as it may be, so I don’t know what could go wrong.” He said defensively, blushing ever so slightly. Eddie rolled his eyes. 

“You’ll be fine, come on.” He nodded Richie over to where he was standing at the foot of the bed, facing the far wall. He was technically going against all plans for clearing his mind of the very annoying and very gay thoughts he had for Richie, but right now stretching was more important. Eddie wouldn’t call himself a _gym rat_ , per se (gyms were basically Germ Central Station, so he often worked out in-home,) but he did keep exercise fairly highly valued on his roster of wellness. He wasn’t going to prevent himself from sharing his interests with Richie just because of some little _crush_. 

“Ok so what, we just like—” Richie stuck out his tongue in concentration as he attempted a tree pose, losing his balance before he could finish the “ohm” that he tried to get out as he stood on one foot. Eddie raised his eyebrows unenthusiastically.

“It’s not yoga, dingus, just follow my lead.” He said flatly, secretly hoping he didn’t come off as too bitchy. The goofy grin on Richie’s face helped reassure him, but he still felt bad. He always did whenever he acted that way, like a smart-ass anti-Richie that sucked all the fun out of everything. But Richie would always smile or laugh every time, so Eddie just couldn’t stop himself from doing it over and over again. Just to see that shit-eating grin. He realized that he had been doing it for most of his life while Richie was in it and was reminded with a mental jolt that the feelings that he had been experiencing so intensely for the past four days weren’t necessarily new. Just more insistent. And hornier. Eddie mentally kicked himself for letting his brain go there and cleared his throat awkwardly, cheeks warming. “So uh, first we’re just gonna do simple stuff to sort of just get into the swing of it.” He said, voice nearly cracking. Jesus Christ, what was he, fourteen? Eddie felt the impending responsibility of _get your shit together, Kaspbrak_ looming over him. 

“Jeez, stretching to get ready for stretching? What are we, Olympic swimmers?” Richie grumbled, following Eddie’s lead nonetheless. He was fairly quiet after that, copying Eddie’s movements without much trouble. Eddie glanced over at him as they did a hamstring stretch and immediately regretted it, instantly noticing the annoyingly nice curve of Richie’s ass. Eddie’s eyes shot forward and he resolved not to look at Richie until they were done stretching. Maybe ever again. He was starting to really regret purposely taking away his opportunity to clear his head and be away from Richie for two seconds. If he kept thinking like this, he’d _need_ to be away from him. Probably for more than two seconds, though. He hoped. They finished the warm up and Eddie quietly led Richie through the main routine, heart feeling like it was trying to beat its way out of his chest. Richie only protested a few times, but Eddie successfully talked him through the moves each time, and he managed to do it without undressing Richie with his eyes, which was cool. _I can’t fucking believe I’m in love with my best friend. I can’t believe I actually want to fuck with Richie Tozier._ Eddie stopped in his tracks, only having made it a few steps towards the bathroom, where he had planned on having the coldest shower known to man. It was the first time he had actually admitted it to himself. Sure, he had thoughts about Richie during certain...R rated activities, endless thoughts about the man, but they were at a distance. Like thinking about Richie’s hands, or shoulders, or jawline simply _existing_ . What they would feel like under Eddie’s touch. Nothing too pornographic. Just like...Pride and Prejudice pornographic. The kinda shit Mr. Darcy probably thought about late at night. Or maybe not, Eddie had never actually read it. It was only once anyway, which made him realize that he had never actually admitted it to himself. Admitted that being in love with Richie also meant wanting to fuck him. Or vice versa, Eddie wasn’t really sure. Either way, he knew he wanted _something_ , and that somehow made everything, like, a thousand times worse. Especially now, because now he was _thinking_ about it. What it would be like. He couldn’t believe that this was happening _now._

“Eds, you good?” Richie’s voice cut in from behind him, bringing him back to earth. He cleared his throat and shuffled to the thin closet beside the bathroom to grab a fresh towel. That shower was going to have to be colder than the coldest shower of all time, if he wanted to make the inevitable boner that would show up the minute he was out of Richie’s sight go away. Obviously Eddie knew that he could take the easy way out and spare himself from freezing to death, but what could he say, he was a masochist. Not actually, he was pretty sure that he just hated himself, but he wasn’t sure if there was really much of a difference. He didn’t have time to think about that shit, though, because Richie was patiently awaiting an answer.

“Uh, yeah, why?” He replied gruffly, face burning as he refused to look at Richie, who was moving closer, much to Eddie’s silent objection. His underwear were starting to feel constrictive. He was seriously considering leaving the country and starting a new life under a new name.

“‘Uh, yeah, why?’ Because you just took two steps and froze like a deer in the headlights. What’d you do, see a ghost?” Richie said, putting on a Dumb Voice to mock Eddie, whose blush intensified.

“No, it’s nothing, I just remembered I gotta officially arrange the plans to move. Which means probably calling Myra.” He tried to keep the shakiness of his voice at bay, the tug at the pit of his stomach not letting up as he glanced at Richie, who was looking at him thoughtfully, a strange contrast to his jibing words. It wasn’t entirely a lie, Eddie really _did_ just remember it. Granted, it was so he didn’t have to tell Richie the truth, but still. “I’m gonna take a shower, shouldn’t be too long.” He mumbled, averting his eyes to the floor so Richie would no longer be in his peripheral. It was like he had a weird superpower to draw Eddie’s eye to him if he was remotely in Eddie’s plane of sight. And he _always_ looked good. It really wasn’t fair. 

“‘Kay. Stop being weird while you're at it, you’re freaking me out. I might go back to bed or get changed and make breakfast or something. Have fun.” Richie said casually, stretching in a way that made his chest particularly accentuated underneath his t-shirt. Eddie felt both his fear and arousal spike. So Richie could tell something was up. _Dammit._ Hopefully that _“Have fun”_ didn’t mean Richie knew what Eddie was thinking of doing. If he did, that would definitely be something he’d say, perhaps with a wink or a more knowing look and a smirk. _No, it’s not gonna happen again. I can control myself._ He scolded himself as he threw Richie one last look and a nod before entering the bathroom, shutting the door a little too hard. 

In the shower Eddie tried, he pleaded to _God_ to clear his mind, start the day fresh and not-horny. Unfortunately, God couldn’t seem to make it to the phone, because Eddie was forcefully turning on the hot water and screwing his eyes shut for the second time since he had arrived in California. Reluctantly, he let the barriers in his mind fall and the thoughts flood in. They were decidedly more R rated than any he’d had before. X rated, even. His breathing became shuddery as he took himself in hand, already at full mast, and distantly thought _Maybe there’s something wrong with me_ . Almost-forty-one-year-olds didn’t normally get this horny this often, right? Richie soon replaced any coherent thoughts, the scene from the day before playing in his head. Richie looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, voice husky and low, telling him _You’re good at that_ . Eddie’s breath hitched as his motions sped up, the thought of Richie’s pupils blowing wide with lust taking over all of his senses. He imagined what might’ve happened in a perfect world then, if he had dropped the comb and brought his lips to Richie’s, coaxed him to turn around and press Eddie into the couch, thread his hands through his hair, undress him hungrily. He imagined how Richie would touch him, how _he_ would touch Richie. Desperate hands, desperate mouth. Desperate for Richie. Eddie wanted to touch him. He wanted to see the man above him and make direct eye contact as he grips Richie’s hips and grind his own up, just to see the reaction, just to hear him give a guttural moan in response. He wanted to make Richie want him. He wanted Richie to kiss him, wanted Richie to press their bodies together until they couldn’t get any closer, wanted Richie, Richie—

“ _Richie!_ ” Eddie’s eyes snapped open as he came, vision swirling, and clamped his free hand over his mouth. All arousal turning into pure fear, Eddie realized that he had probably been audibly moaning for a good portion of the time. _Fuck._

“Yeah?” Richie’s voice called distantly. _Double fuck._ The Richie in Eddie’s head chortled disbelievingly. 

_How the fuck did he hear you? Holy shit, Eds, you need to get it together. ‘Richie!’ he says. Loud mouth._ He spat. Eddie growled.

_Shut up. Only the real Richie gets to call me Eds._

“Uh, nothing, sorry! I just, the curtain rod—I thought I needed your help—everything’s fine!” He stuttered out, cleaning himself off with shaky hands. He didn’t hear a response, but that could’ve been because of the endless screaming that was going through his head. _Well that settles that, I’m never jerking off again._ Eddie thought to himself as he cleaned his whole body for a second time for good measure. He washed and conditioned his hair quickly, using some new stuff he had gotten on his adventure to the grocery store, which he also didn’t want to think about. He dressed quickly but took extra time to fix his hair, giving himself more time to pretend like the events of the past twenty-odd minutes hadn’t happened. He felt a strange wave of tiredness wash over him as he swiftly exited the room, prepared to head downstairs. He paused at the top of the stairs and tried to peek down to see if Richie was already making breakfast despite the fact that there was no possible way to see the kitchen from his spot.

“Rich?” He called cautiously. He still wasn’t sure he had the mental integrity to act like a normal human person if he ran into the guy. 

“What’s up?” Richie’s voice came from far behind him, slightly muffled. Eddie padded his way to Richie’s room, to which the door was open, and peered in. Richie came out of his closet (literally), buttoning a particularly awful hawaiian shirt. He jumped a little at the sight of Eddie, who tried his best not to stare at the part of Richie’s chest that was still exposed. He buttoned fast, much to Eddie’s thanks. “You scared me, jeez. Everything okay?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow in an attempt to look nonchalant. He couldn’t hide the genuine worry in his eyes from Eddie, though. 

“Yeah, yeah no, everything is fine, I just wanted to apologize. If I scared you before. I just—the curtain rod like did this thing, and I just got startled, and I didn’t actually need your help or anything, I just—”

“It’s cool, Spaghettio, don’t worry about it.” Richie cut him off with a reassuring smile. 

“C’mon, what do you want for breakfast?” He led Eddie down the hall and to the stairs, and Eddie attempted to let go of any awkward feelings. It was damn near impossible, but he could try. 

“Not eggs.” He said, and Richie barked a laugh. Eddie inhaled deeply. He was fine, Richie was fine. Nothing weird. Everything was going to be _fine_.

  
  


Everything wasn’t fine, but it was for an entirely different reason now. Breakfast had been fairly uneventful, Richie and Eddie mostly just talking about the movie and seeing Bill (minus the whole breakdown thing of course,) and then Richie had to take another call. The shower incident hadn’t come up again, thank God. Once alone, Eddie had brought himself around to starting his moving plans. He had tried to avoid calling Myra, but realized that there was no going around it. Big mistake. He would’ve never made the call if he knew what he’d blurt out after listening to Myra rant hysterically for what felt like forever (she was in a particularly bad mood and was trying once again to shame Eddie into coming back to her.)

“Myra, I don’t love you.” Eddie had said sharply, and he had thought that would’ve been the end of it. But it was never the end of it with Myra. 

“Yes you _do_ , Eddie-bear, why can’t you just—”

“Myra, I don’t love you now and I didn't before.” This had stopped her for a moment, the silence deafening before she let out an exaggerated sob. 

“ _Eddie_ , how could you _say_ something like that?” The brokenness in her voice was completely artificial, and Eddie had felt his anger build, blind him, and then it had happened. 

“Because I’m gay, Myra.” He had snapped. He said it as if it were obvious, as if he wasn’t just telling his ex-wife who he despised his deepest, most terrifying secret. And just like that, it was out there. Maybe it was because Richie had the strength to come out to his parents. Maybe it was because Eddie was just fed up with all of the secrets and the hiding. Regardless, the words had been uttered, absorbed by the air and the walls and the phone in his hand and he couldn’t take it back. 

“I—what?” Myra replied immediately, and he choked, unable to follow up what was basically “Hiya honey, fun fact: I like dick!” 

“I’m not having this conversation anymore.” He had said, mildly perplexed, and just like that the conversation ended. He hung up and slumped into the couch, bewildered. Eddie’s mind felt oddly blank, which eventually brought him to where he was now, flipping his wedding band over and over with his pointer fingers and thumbs, almost daintily, as he stared blankly forward. He didn’t really know why he had kept it. Perhaps he felt like he could only get rid of it when the divorce was completely over and done with, or perhaps he was scared. His therapist had basically told him that he was afraid of change in one of their earlier sessions (in a therapist-y way, of course,) so he wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case. 

“Whatcha got there?” Richie’s voice cut through the thick haze that Eddie had unknowingly cast on himself, startling him slightly.

“Oh, uh, my wedding ring.” He said sheepishly, blushing when Richie sat so close to him that their knees nearly knocked together. It wasn’t a bad closeness, and Eddie’s shame from his little Me-Time sesh in the shower had finally minimized, so he found himself relaxing slightly. 

“Why the fuck do you still have that?” Richie demanded, his anger toward Myra no secret. Eddie gave a humorless “heh” before responding, trying to think of a response that made any coherent sense at all.

“I do not know.” Was all he could come up with. He looked at Richie, who had a mix of confusion and frustration on his face, eyebrows drawn. Eddie took a moment to admire how expressive Richie’s eyebrows made him, capable of contorting his face into a hundred different expressions in a flash. Well, maybe not that fast, but either way they were nice. Thick and well shaped, masculine but fairly well man-scaped. Jesus, Eddie felt like he was going insane. So this was what love was. Thinking about the unique intricacies of a guy’s eyebrows.

“Well fuckin’...get rid of it, damn dude, why would you keep that?” Richie seemed genuinely disturbed that Eddie had kept the ring, and he couldn’t hold in the annoyance he felt towards his sudden judgmental energy.

“Well Jesus, Rich, it’s not that easy.” He said defensively, abruptly feeling very far from Richie despite their physical closeness. 

“Well it should be, don’t y—” Richie started, looking pensive.

“I know it should be.” Eddie snapped, standing up almost too quickly. Richie followed suit, looking strangely imposing as he stared unbreakingly down at Eddie. “I know it should be easy, but it just isn’t, okay? You wouldn’t understand and I don’t expect you to, so just leave it.” He said, karate chopping his hand in the familiar gesture that he had been doing when he got fed up for God knows how long. As if he could physically sever Richie from the conversation. Richie’s lips set in a thin line as he held their gaze, clearly trying to figure out how to respond without escalating the argument. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of glaring at each other, Richie grabbed Eddie’s wrist. 

“Come with me.” He said, any frustration in his voice replaced with a strangely endearing determination. “Bring the ring.” He added, leading Eddie to the front door and grabbing his keys and sunglasses on the way out.

“Where are we—”

“Nope. No questions, just come with me.” Richie clearly wasn’t joking, but he also didn’t sound as serious as he had before, no longer cold. Confused but spurred by curiosity, Eddie followed him, pausing when Richie got in the driver’s seat of his car. “Come on, time’s a-wasting.” He said pointedly, and Eddie almost laughed at the absurdity of the whole situation before remembering that he was still irritated by Richie’s lack of a filter. Reluctantly, Eddie got in the car without question. They set off, the destination still unknown to Eddie, and drove for about thirty minutes. The silence made it feel more like an _hour_ and thirty minutes, but hey, c’est la vie when your best friend won't let you ask any questions about where he’s driving you in a state you’ve never been in. Eddie really hoped Richie wasn’t pulling anything. It was only when the car stopped did Eddie realize how high they had actually driven. Eddie got out of the car in astonishment. They were basically on a cliff. They _were_ on a cliff. The only thing separating them and the Pacific Ocean was a metal guardrail. The outcropping they were on was one in a series, the cliffs jutting out and receding so they created little alcoves, making the shore below seem like a very _very_ private beach. Eddie reached into his pocket and let his fingers curl around the warm metal of his ring, not taking out. He heard Richie shut his car door but only looked at the man when he reached Eddie’s side, sunglasses on despite the fact that the sun was behind them, only recently risen. 

“What are we…?” Eddie didn’t have to finish the question as he looked back out onto the vast ocean. It really was magnificent. Eddie couldn’t remember the last time he had seen the ocean. Eddie had never thought he’d see the Pacific one, but he was unsure of why.

“Throw it in, if you want. I know I ‘don’t understand’ or whatever,” Richie used air quotes, “but I think you’re so fuckin’ pent up all the time because you’re not letting go. You don’t have to do it, though. We can just enjoy the view and leave.” He said, sounding indifferent. Eddie took the ring out now and studied it with mild distaste. What did it mean? Was it really what was holding him back? _You’re braver than you think._ Wordlessly, Eddie threw the ring and watched it sail through the air, over the edge of the cliff, then down, down, until it disappeared into the depths of the ocean below. For a moment, the only noise was the wind and the waves below, and then Richie whooped and clapped. 

“Fuck yeah! How do you feel, man?” He asked excitedly, a bright smile flashing. Eddie felt...he didn’t really know how he felt, actually. He felt almost bleak for a second, emotionless. Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. 

“Fucking _free_ , dude.” He said with an exhale that made it seem like he had been holding his breath, gladly reciprocating the hug that Richie pulled him into. “Holy shit, Richie Tozier was right about something? Somebody call Guinness World Records, it’s a miracle.” Eddie said once they pulled away, and Richie poked him in retaliation.

“Asshole. I’m a genius, people should always listen to my ideas.” He said, walking back to the car, only a few feet away. Instead of getting in, though, he situated himself on the hood, staring out onto the open expanse of the Pacific. Eddie paused before joining him, wondering if it was the best idea, before thinking _Fuck it_ and hoisting himself up next to Richie. They sat in silence, observing the horizon for what felt like forever. Eddie didn’t mind, it was a beautiful view. Well it was until Richie opened his mouth. “Right, now that that’s out of the way, we need to work on gettin’ you some.” He said, Eddie not having to look at him to see his smirk. Eddie rolled his eyes and swatted Richie’s shoulder. 

“Sometimes I wish you _wouldn’t_.” He said, not specifying what. Richie laughed and Eddie cut him off with a glare. “What is it with your obsession with me getting laid, man? It’s really not as important as you make it.” He bit, getting off of the hood and into the car. 

“Uh okay, did you ever have sex with Myra?” Richie said pointedly, joining him and starting the car. Eddie crossed his arms and scoffed. 

“The fuck kinda question is that? Yes I...yes.” He said, not fully lying. Richie’s lack of response illustrated his disbelief. “I mean sometimes. Not...it wasn’t like a regular thing. Neither of us were ever really into it.” He said sheepishly, and Richie snorted. 

“You need to tend to your needs, dude. You can do whatever you want now, you should take advantage of that.” He said, keeping his eyes on the road. Eddie felt his cheeks warm and looked away. 

“Well some people just don’t...that’s not how it works for everyone. Plus, can you even talk? When was the last time _you_ got...laid?” He asked, voice dimming. Sure, talking about sex embarrassed him a little, he could admit it. 

“This isn’t about me, Eds, I’m not the one who was just released into the wild after being with Myra Jones for like seventeen years or however the fuck long you were with that bitch.” He said bluntly, almost growling. His anger was almost impressive. He had never even met the lady. Eddie grumbled because he knew Richie was right. Being with Myra really had felt like being in prison, trapped. “Plus, I’ve been holding out for my one true love, Mrs. K herself. Sonia, oh Sonia, where art thou.” He tacked on with a short laugh, and Eddie swatted him again.

“I actually hate you. Why won’t you answer my question?” He persisted, and Richie’s smile faded slightly. 

“I told you, this is about you. I mean, don’t you want to celebrate? Live it up a little? Sow your royal oats or whatever.” He said, and Eddie’s blush intensified. 

“You’re gross. No I just...I don’t want it to be with a stranger, you know? I mean, firstly, do you realize how unsafe that is? For like, so many reasons, too. Second of all, I just don’t...I’d rather _know_ the person. Which I know is kinda redundant, ‘cause I don’t know many people enough to want...that with them, but that’s just how it is.” He said, and found that the floodgates had basically opened, because he continued before Richie could respond. “And I mean, it’s not that I _don’t_ want it, I do obviously, like holy shit I want it so fucking bad, but I basically just have _you_ and _that’s it,_ which like, you’re my best friend, I’m not just gonna be like ‘hey Richie, wanna fuck?’ ‘cause that kinda stuff never works out and it would make everything wicked awkward, and I just don’t think I can handle that right now. Plus, you’re not even...it would just ruin things, so clearly I’m out of options.” He rushed, talking a mile a minute. Richie was silent for a moment. 

“You...okay. So the only thing stopping you from wanting to have sex with me is the fact that we’re friends?” He asked. Eddie didn’t really know why he was asking, since he literally had just said that, but he affirmed anyway. 

“Yeah, it would be weird. Did I not just say that?” He looked over at Richie, whose knuckles were turning white from gripping the steering wheel so hard. And Richie said _Eddie_ was the one who needed to loosen up. 

“Not because I’m a guy.” Richie stated tightly, and Eddie froze. Well, there was no going back now. 

“Right.” He said, drawing out the r awkwardly. 

“Okay. So you’re—”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Do you want to watch a movie or something when we get home?” Richie said, reaching across Eddie to open the glove compartment. So they were just dropping the whole conversation, huh. Good. So Richie knew Eddie was gay. Also not necessarily a bad thing.

“Sure. What do you need, I’ll get it.” He offered, fearing that Richie wouldn’t be keeping his full attention on the road if he was fiddling with whatever he was looking for. 

“CD. Any one, just figured we could listen to some music. The radio reception here is shit, so.” He said, and Eddie fished into the compartment and picked one at random. 

“Björk? I didn’t realize you listened to that kinda stuff.” He said, popping the CD into the player. Richie laughed lightly. 

“I listen to everything, Spagheds. What do you want to watch?” He asked as the opening of the first song on the album played, a soft clarinet tune. 

_It’s oh so quiet_

“I don’t know. A Wes Anderson film.” He said, saying the first thing that came to mind. He had never actually seen a Wes Anderson film, but he knew that Richie liked them (he had mentioned it at some point at the Jade of the Orient, the reason escaping Eddie.)

_It’s oh so still_

“Oh, fuck yeah. The Royal Tenenbaums is like one of my favorite movies of all time, have you ever seen that one?” He asked excitedly, and Eddie found himself smiling. 

_You’re all alone_

“No I have not. It’s a good one?” He looked over at Richie, who was lightly mouthing the words to the song.

_And so peaceful until_

The music turned loud and fast, picking up into an almost 1920s fast-jazz tune. 

_You fall in love, zing boom!_

Richie was full-on singing by this point, ignoring Eddie’s question, and Eddie laughed. If there was one thing that was always reliable in regards to Richie, it was that he was full of surprises. After that, he knew almost all the words to the songs that played after, but it was the first one that really stuck in Eddie’s mind. To say he related to it was an understatement. Once home, Richie was quick about putting the movie on. Eddie really appreciated his enthusiasm when it came to film. Richie’s movie collection was possibly more vast than that of his vinyls, and that was really saying something. Eddie had always wished he could’ve been a movie buff, but what film and TV he consumed had always been put under restriction by Sonia and later Myra. Richie was right, it was a good movie, and Eddie was not surprised when Richie told him he had the soundtrack on CD, as the music was equally good. After it ended, Richie stretched out on the couch, laying so he could look up at Eddie. “Thoughts, questions, concerns?” He asked, and Eddie smiled. 

“It was good. I gotta finish settling the moving plans now, though.” He said, and Richie rolled his eyes and got up.

“You always _work_ .” He said, wandering over to the vinyl-filled bookcase and picking out a Best Of The Mama’s and The Papa’s album, putting it on the record machine that sat on the end table that separated the vinyl bookcase and an actual bookcase. California Dreamin’ began and Richie swayed to the music for a moment before dancing over to Eddie, lip syncing passionately, not letting Eddie respond. He felt his neck warm when Richie actually dropped to his knees without a second thought in front of Eddie during the “ _Well I got down on my knees_ ,” part. Eddie was glad he had already gotten out most of his pent up sexual aggression, for lack of a better term, that morning. Still, Richie doing _that_ didn’t... _not_ turn him on, if at least a little. Richie got up after the verse ended and held out a hand for Eddie to join him, still stepping from foot to foot in time with the music. Eddie shook his head with a laugh. 

“C’mon Eds, dance to the epic flute solo with me. How many songs do you know that have flute solos _this_ epic?” He insisted, not relinquishing his extended hand, and Eddie took it reluctantly. Richie spun him to the music and he laughed, spinning Richie back. They separated but stayed close, both dancingly very badly and mouthing the words emphatically. The song ended and Eddie laughed, fixing Richie’s shirt collar. Richie held his gaze, smiling, and Eddie felt a familiar ache in his chest. He cleared his throat and looked away. 

“I uh. I gotta do this stuff. I’ll just. Go to my room, I guess.” He said, gathering his computer and notepad and nodding to Richie, who gave a two-finger wave and tried to conceal his disappointment. Eddie looked away, feeling a love for the man that he had never felt for anyone else. He felt it so much it hurt. He swiftly took cover in his room and set to work, ignoring the burn of tears behind his eyes. 

  
  


Eddie stood in front of the mirror in his room about two hours later, doing his homework. Well, the homework his therapist gave him. There was no question that Eddie was insecure about himself, so his therapist had instructed him with ways to actually do something about it. One way included this. Looking at himself in the mirror and saying what he was insecure about and why out loud, and then giving himself a reason not to be insecure about each thing that he felt that way about. He had never tried the exercise before, despite the fact that his therapist had advised him to utilize it weeks ago.

“Um. So I guess I just. Okay. I don’t like the scar on my cheek. It makes me insecure because I feel like people are always staring at me because of it.” He recited awkwardly, crossing his arms tightly. Just then, he heard a double knock on the already-open door and saw Richie appear in the mirror. 

“Woah, am I interrupting something? I was just gonna ask what you want for lunch.” He asked, smiling slightly. Eddie looked back but didn’t move from his spot in front of the mirror. 

“I’m just doing my therapy homework.” He replied glumly, looking back at the reflection in the mirror.

“Ooh,” Richie said, joining Eddie at the mirror. The two side by side took up the whole width of the glass, and Eddie observed their difference in shoulder-widths. Richie really was super fucking broad. “You get homework too? Nice. What do you do?” He asked, making eye contact with Eddie in the reflection of the mirror. It was strikingly intimate. Eddie relayed him the instructions, not breaking the gaze.

“So yeah, I was just saying how I don’t like my scar because it makes me feel like people are judging me every time I go out in public, so I’d follow it up with something like ‘I do like my scar because it reminds me that I was brave enough to stab the guy that stabbed me with the same knife he had stabbed me with, which is pretty badass,’ you know?” He explained, and Richie raised his eyebrows. 

“Can I do it?” He seemed almost excited, and Eddie nearly laughed. 

“Sure, it’s a free country. I don’t think my therapist would mind. We could alternate.” He suggested with a smirk, watching Richie shove his hands into the pockets of his shorts, which looked nearly too big for him.

“Okay, cool, um...wait, I forgot, I’m literally perfect, so this doesn’t apply to me.” He said with a cheeky grin, and Eddie knocked his shoulder into him, smiling nonetheless. Richie fluffed the back of his hair with one hand, looking into the mirror sheepishly. “No, uh, okay. I don’t like the fact that I live in L.A. but can’t get tan because like what the fuck, you know? Makes no sense. I _do_ like the fact that I’ve got the skin equivalent of a fine porcelain teapot because if I ever wanna dress as a vampire for Halloween, I won't need to wear any makeup.” He said, completely serious. Eddie rolled his eyes and Richie gave a short laugh. “This is fun, I like this. ‘Kay, it’s your turn.” He said, still looking at Eddie’s reflection attentively. 

“Alright. I’m insecure about my shoulders because they’re kind of slight and no matter what I do, they never look broad, and it makes me feel emasculated.” He said, looking longingly at Richie’s admirable frame. Richie snorted.

“I know this isn’t a part of it, but I hope you know I’d kill for a body like yours. Like Jesus, dude, save some sexy for the rest of us.” He said, winking at Eddie in the mirror. Eddie rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his blush as Richie went back to observing himself. “Alright, I…” He stretched his arms up and looked at Eddie in the mirror again. “I don’t want to play this game anymore.” He said, puzzling Eddie thoroughly. He said it casually, as if Eddie knew what he was talking about. He didn’t sound fed up, just matter-of-fact. He dropped his arms and put his hands back into his pockets.

“I mean, it’s just my homework, you don’t have to feel obligated to—”

“I’m not talking about that, Eddie.” He said, turning so he was looking at the non-reflection Eddie, who cocked his head to the side in further confusion.

“What’r you—” Richie cut him off again, and this time Eddie was put at a loss for words. He wasn’t even sure if he heard Richie right. He wasn’t even sure if what was happening was real.

“Eddie, I’m in love with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs used were It’s Oh So Quiet by Björk and California Dreamin’ by The Mama’s and The Papa’s and they are both songs that I really like, I suggest you check them out! If you’re reading this, thanks for reading the chapter! Hope you liked it :)


	13. When the Day Met the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Literally just like really vague porn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. What the description says. This chapter’s a shorter, pretty porn-y one, but like in the least graphic way possible. After this one I might only have one more chapter, two max. Hope you like this one :D

Eddie was a risk analyst, and a good one at that. This meant that he gave the OK on very big decisions for a very big insurance corporation. If he had the wrong judgement, he could run the whole branch into the ground. Subsequently, this also meant he was constantly calculating, dealing with percentages and predictions and analysis, which often carried from work into his personal life. Eddie had always been like that, anyway, probably because of his mother. That’s why he took the job. But now, Eddie wasn’t even thinking. He couldn’t even hear what Richie was saying, probably something along the lines of “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but I couldn’t hold it in any longer” based off of what Eddie could pick out from looking at his mouth curiously. Eddie wasn’t very good at reading lips. Either way, the calculation, the constant stream of thoughts, the attention to every single detail of everything around him all ceased when he heard the words hit the air. _Eddie, I’m in love with you._ For the first time since he was thirteen years old, Eddie made a decision without thinking twice. Almost gently, Eddie grabbed the collar of Richie’s atrocious Hawaiian shirt and pulled him into a kiss, silencing him. For a second, Richie didn’t respond, and Eddie had the fleeting fear that he may have made a huge mistake. But then Richie leaned into the kiss, sliding one hand up the back of Eddie’s head, tangling his fingers in the gelled hair and resting the other hand on Eddie’s hip. He didn't even mind that his hair was getting messed up, because he was kissing Richie Tozier. _He was kissing Richie Tozier._ The kiss broke and Eddie took a shaky breath with closed eyes, still only a fraction of an inch away from Richie. He could feel Richie looking at him and dove in for another kiss, this time fast and desperate, as if he were afraid that either of them would fade away any minute. Richie’s tongue swiped shyly across Eddie’s bottom lip, a question, and Eddie opened his mouth slightly, an answer. He gripped the other man with a ferocity that he had never felt before, balling the fabric of the back of Richie’s shirt in his fists like he was trying to tear it off. Richie’s own hands were beginning to wander, one still in Eddie’s hair and the other now at the small of his back. They pressed close, mouths moving against each other in a clumsy tandem, Eddie feeling nearly drunk with passion and adrenaline and _love_. He broke away with a heavy breath, looking up at the surprisingly silent Richie, who was regarding him fondly. Eddie felt surreal, like he was floating or falling or suspended in a vast expanse, immobile in the best way. Whatever he felt, it was fucking amazing.

“I love you too. I love you so fucking much, Richie.” He breathed, voice still wobbly. The amount of love he had for Richie was still present as an ache in his chest, but this time he didn’t mind. Richie leaned in to initiate another round of hot, passionate kissing, but before he could reach Eddie’s lips, the smaller man placed a hand on his chest. Eddie looked up in a sort-of glare, feeling like every cell in his body was buzzing at hyper-speed. Richie’s brow twitched in confusion and Eddie almost pulled him into another kiss. Instead, he crossed his arms and looked Richie up and down accusingly. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me? How long…how long have you…?” He shifted his weight as he trailed off, suddenly feeling a new kind of adrenaline. _Richie Tozier loved him._ Richie kept his hand in Eddie’s hair, playing with it slightly, and smiled. 

“I didn’t tell you when I figured it out because it was the 80s and we lived in Derry fucking Maine. I didn’t tell you at the Jade because you were married and I figured your life was about to get really fucked up, so might as well spare you from the added stress. I’m only telling you now because you…you’re just so…brave. I wanted a turn. I wanted to be like you.” He said coolly, voice level. Eddie shook his head in slight shock, snaking his arms around Richie’s waist once more.

“You keep saying that, but I’m no more brave than you are.” He replied lowly, eyes skirting over Richie’s features. Richie laughed quietly, voice deepened with what sounded close to lust. 

“No, Eds. You just…you’re able to handle things in a way that I never could. Like, hard things. You always just…yourself, you know? You never—you—” Richie seemed almost flustered as he sought for words. When he couldn’t come up with anything, he cut himself off by kissing Eddie again. In that moment, he knew what Richie meant, even if he didn’t believe it himself. He let himself be enveloped by Richie’s touch, chasing after the kiss with ardent need. He had never wanted anything more. He had never felt the way he did now in his entire life. Richie’s hand found its way to the un-stabbed side of Eddie’s face, the thumb brushing over his cheekbone appreciatively. Eddie broke away and returned to standing with flat feet, not even having realized he had been on his toes. 

“Holy shit, Rich,” he said, placing a hand on top of Richie’s. “Your hands are so fucking big.” He nearly growled it. You could say Richie’s hands turned him on, but that probably would be an understatement. Richie gave a quiet laugh and moved his hand so his thumb brushed across Eddie’s lips, nearly making his knees weak. Tentatively, he slowly kissed the thumb that traced his lips, surprised at his own willingness to do something so…unprotected. Just six months ago, he would’ve thought it as dirty, wrong even. But now…now he was moving to press kisses into Richie’s palm unashamedly, holding the hungry gaze of the other man as he did so. Richie looked downright _ravenous_ , like he couldn’t believe what was happening but couldn’t get enough of it either. Eddie felt his heartbeat in his throat as he moved back just enough to pull his shirt off without smacking Richie in the face. Only when he got situated, folding the shirt in half and tossing it onto the bed to his side, did he notice Richie’s wide-eyed expression. “What?” He asked, moving closer and grasping the hem of Richie’s button down as he moved closer, smiling slightly. Richie cleared his throat as his cheeks reddened and slid his hands up Eddie’s bare torso, not taking his eyes off of his exposed skin and muscles. Eddie had to admit, the way Richie was looking at him did more for him than he’d ever say out loud. 

“You’re just…you’re so…fuck you, you know you’re hot!” Richie eventually exclaimed with a gravelly voice, slipping his arms around Eddie’s waist so he could press them chest to chest. Eddie laughed before pressing a kiss into the crook of Richie’s neck, receiving a hitched breath from the man. Quickly, Eddie began to unbutton his shirt with shaky fingers, eager to get his hands on Richie’s chest, his skin, _him_. 

“Fucking…I swear to _God_.” He whispered as he struggled, looking up when Richie gave a genuine chuckle. “What?” He demanded, going back to the annoyingly slippery buttons. Richie took Eddie by the wrists and placed them on his own hips, taking over to finish undoing his shirt. Eddie slipped his hands underneath the shirt as Richie unbuttoned, the skin of his hands feeling like it was on fire when it pressed against Richie’s stomach. 

“Nothing, it’s just I don’t think that anyone’s ever been this eager for me to take my shirt off.” He said with a grin as he shrugged off the button down, not bothering to tend to it like Eddie had with his shirt. Eddie didn’t even have the impulse to pick it up off of the floor and fold it, though, because he was too busy studying Richie’s bare chest in awe. He didn’t have to discreetly side-eye or worry about Richie noticing him staring anymore, and he took full advantage of the fact. He observed the thick, firm muscle of his chest, the softer flesh of his stomach, the hair that trailed into his waistline and dusted his chest evenly. Almost cautiously, he let his hands travel upwards until they were resting on each of Richie’s pecs and felt the reverberations of Richie’s voice as he chuckled again. 

“Stop laughing, asshole, I haven’t been this close to a sexy person in a long time, forgive me if I stare a little.” He growled, pulling Richie into another kiss before he could respond. He didn’t know what he did differently, but something about this one made Richie moan, actually _moan_ , into his mouth. Eddie felt like he was going to melt. Or at least his heart did, because down south his body was definitely doing the opposite. Instead of feeling embarrassed, like he normally would (even if he was alone), he felt determined. Determined to make Richie know he made Eddie feel. Fervently, he deepened the kiss and gripped Richie’s hips so he could roll his own forward and grind into Richie. The result was…pleasing, to say the least. Richie gave a muffled noise of surprise first, followed by a deep moan that emanated from a low, guttural place. For a moment, Eddie felt a strange rush of giddy euphoria shudder through him, and then Richie kissed his neck just so and he produced a noise that he hadn’t thought he was capable of making. Richie continued to press kisses into his neck, which eventually evolved into light nipping and sucking that Eddie hadn’t previously thought could feel so good. He felt Richie smile into his neck and almost whimpered when he pulled away. For a moment, Richie just looked at him, a spark in his eyes that was unfamiliar to Eddie. Then he dropped to his knees and Eddie’s eyes widened. “R-Rich wait, holy fuck,” he looked down, heart racing. Richie looked up and paused, hands not yet on the button of Eddie’s pants. 

“Is—do you not want this? We don’t have to do this.” He rushed, starting to get up. Eddie put a hand on his shoulder and blushed, fearing he was too forceful. Richie’s tongue swiped over his bottom lip and Eddie thought he could see his pupils dilate. 

“No, uh, I do, very badly, actually. I just…is this a good time?” He started and cleared his throat, embarrassed to go on. 

“I mean. You’re hard and I’m not bad at sucking dick, if I do say so myself, so yeah? But we don’t have to, what’s up?” Richie was completely non-judgemental, but Eddie still felt the ache of embarrassment settling in his chest. With a deep breath, he thought of his own advice that he had given Richie at the start of the day. _Like ripping off a bandaid._

“It’s just I’ve never—this has never happened. To me. Before. So I just…you know, I don’t know what like…protocol is.” He said awkwardly as his heart raced. Richie drew his eyebrows together and squared his shoulders. 

“Y…you’ve never had a blowjob.” He stated, slowly processing the confession. Not knowing what to do with his hands, Eddie shoved them into his pockets awkwardly and nodded, his pants beginning to feel uncomfortably tight. Richie smiled reassuringly. “Eddie baby, you do realize that I’m the one who should be worrying about performance, right? All you have to do is stand there and look pretty. Maybe put your hands in my hair or something, but you don’t even have to do that if you don’t want to.” He said, adjusting his glasses. God, did _everything_ he did have to be insanely cute? Eddie quickly took his hands in his pockets and crossed and uncrossed his arms, still unsure of what to do with his hands. He settled on hooking just his thumbs in his pockets and felt like he looked like a cowboy, but decided to ignore it. 

“W—right, but what if—like, do you want me to…talk?” He asked, scratching the back of his neck nervously. Richie gave a light laugh and unbuttoned Eddie’s jeans but didn’t move any further. 

“You talk if you want to talk, Eds. Personally, I don’t mind some words of affirmation here and there, but I’m really down for anything. Just being able to blow Eddie Kaspbrak is like…holy shit, you know? Pretty sure I’ve wanted to do this since I first saw you at the Jade.” He said with a playful glint in his eyes. Eddie felt his heart rate pick up and suddenly found the confidence to unzip his pants and push them down until they dropped around his ankles. Richie grinned, kneeling up so he could press a kiss to where Eddie’s pelvic bone jutted out, beginning one half of the V that led into his waistband. Eddie shuddered out a breath as Richie trailed soft kisses down until he reached the underwear band, which he tucked a few fingers in on each side before pausing. “You’re sure you want this, though, right?” He asked, and Eddie could barely take the strain of the underwear’s fabric anymore. He nodded vigorously and Richie slid the underwear down, not wasting a second to start on his…work. Eddie gasped and tried to carefully push a hand into Richie’s hair, so he was sort of cradling the back of his head. It didn’t feel good. No, it felt fucking _amazing_ . Eddie’s mind went blank for a moment and the first thing that came to mind when he could actually think sort of straight was _words of affirmation_.

“Um, fuck,” he said under his breath as Richie continued, one gently clutching the side of Eddie’s thigh and the other working where his mouth didn’t reach. _Words of affirmation._ “Y-you’re a really awesome guy, Rich.” He choked out, squeezing his eyes shut the minute the words left his mouth. _This_ was why Eddie always thought about what he said before he said it. When he didn’t, he said shit like “you’re a good person” while being blown by his best friend that also happened to be the love of his life. Richie paused but didn’t pull back and Eddie mentally scolded himself. “Sorry, I’m sorry, that was really bad, I just—holy _shit_ , Richie.” His eyes flew open as Richie suddenly picked up again with a short chuckle. The sound had felt like it reverberated _through_ Eddie, nearly making his knees buckle. He felt his breathing pick up and stuttered out a deep groan when Richie pushed deeper, nearly taking Eddie to the back of his throat. “Ah, Jesus _fuck_ —you look so good, Rich, I can’t fucking handle it.” He growled, surprising himself and Richie, who responded enthusiastically by speeding up. _Words of affirmation_ . Eddie felt a smile tug at his lips as he hitched an inhale. Eddie couldn’t remember the last time he felt this good. Not just because of the obvious reasons, but also just because he was _with_ Richie. He was sad that he had lost out on so much time with him because of the stupid fucking clown, but just the fact that they were together now made Eddie feel like he was on cloud nine. Eddie felt another surge of pleasure wash through him and placed one of his hands on top of the one gripping his thigh, shifting it so he could intertwine his fingers with Richie’s. Richie gave a deep groan at this and Eddie’s breath hitched again as he nearly teetered dangerously close to the edge. “Christ, Rich, don’t do that, I don’t wanna come that fast.” He said with a breathy laugh. Richie pulled back and looked up at him with a mischievous smile.

“Isn’t that the point, Eddie baby?” He purred, voice low, and took Eddie back into his mouth before he could get out a response. Anything he might have thought of to respond with was forgotten as he let out another moan. Richie’s hand untangled from Eddie’s and he trailed his fingers down and around Eddie’s leg until he was cupping his calf muscle. Eddie had never had a blowjob before, but he was sure that if he had, this one would be ranked as one of the most intimate of them all. He had always thought of blowjobs as a loveless way to get quick relief, but Richie going down on him proved that wrong by a mile. He and Richie’s shared passion wasn’t just sexual and desperate, but also surprisingly loving. If he responded particularly well to something Richie did, he would replicate it, and if Eddie did something that got an occasional moan out of Richie, he would do the same. It was a surprising dynamic, but it worked really well. Eddie wasn’t sure if other people realized how much of a pair effort blowjobs required. Eddie was pulled out of his speculation when Richie maneuvered his tongue in a particular way, causing him to gasp. 

“Rich, oh _fuck,_ ” he breathed, nearly squeaking in surprise when Richie did it again with even more fervor than the first time. Suddenly, Eddie could feel everything around him. Richie’s hand on his calf, large and warm, the feeling of his hair tangled around Eddie’s fingers, the way the nape of his neck was beginning to bead with sweat, the persistent tug at the pit of his stomach, and of course most prominently, the feeling of Richie’s mouth around him. “Oh shit.” Eddie said in realization, knowing what the phenomenon meant. “Rich you gotta—fucking _Jesus Christ_ , Richie you gotta stop.” He warned with deep, quick breaths. When Richie didn’t stop, he placed a hand on Richie’s shoulder gently. He had to stop his hips from stuttering forward as Richie picked up pace. “Richie I’m—y’know, I’m gonna—Richie, wait, no, oh _fuuuuck—_ ” Eddie dragged out as he spilled over the edge (and into Richie’s mouth.) Richie pulled away and swallowed, Eddie too stimulated to be grossed out. He didn’t even know if he had made any noise, as his vision had turned dark and his mind had gone blank. He swayed slightly, a little dizzy from the insane rush of raw feeling he’d had. Hazily, he pulled up his underwear and pants, but didn’t bother to zip the fly or even button. Another thing that Eddie had never had was weed, but he imagined that this was close to what it felt like to be high on it. Wiping his mouth with the heel of his palm, Richie got up and stretched his legs with a slight wince. Eddie looked at him with half lidded eyes as he gave him a warm smile. 

“Better than jerking off in the shower, huh?” He said with a slight laugh. Eddie was still too dazed to be embarrassed, so he just leaned toward Richie until his forehead was rested against his chest, as his legs felt supremely weak. 

“You heard that?” He mumbled, slipping one hand into one of Richie’s back pockets and placing the other on Richie’s hip. Richie laughed and draped his arms over Eddie’s shoulders. 

“I know I probably don’t seem like it, but I take good care of my house. I know which curtain rods are iffy and which aren’t. Plus, you suck at lying.” He said casually, and Eddie smiled before pulling away and kissing Richie’s neck tenderly. 

“Well,” he said, placing another kiss, lower this time. “To answer your question,” another kiss, “that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.” He didn’t even stutter on the word _orgasm_ like he usually did whenever talking about anything so closely tied to sex. Richie stayed silent, working his jaw as Eddie ran his hands over his chest and dragged them down until he was teasing at the button of Richie’s shorts. “And,” his eyes flicked down, pleased to find that Richie was _definitely_ enjoying what he was doing. “I’d like to return the gesture.” He kissed Richie on the mouth now, deep and meaningful, and Richie moaned into it. Eddie smiled and placed one hand in the middle of Richie’s chest, fingers splayed. Gently, he pushed Richie backwards towards the bed. Eddie didn’t remember how Richie had ended up with his back to the bed, but soon he was on it, backing up as Eddie crawled up onto it, eventually situating himself so he was straddling Richie on his knees. With a dim smile, he leaned in and kissed Richie again, deep and sweet, surprised to find that he wasn’t entirely disgusted by the fact that he was making out with a guy that had just swallowed his jizz. Almost frantically, Eddie sat back and undid Richie’s shorts. Richie grinned as he lifted up his hips so Eddie could successfully tug down his shorts and underwear. He blushed at the action, and further when Richie was exposed. “Holy shit, Rich.” He said, looking Richie up and down. His chest heaved and he nearly sounded like he was going to whimper as he looked at Eddie. 

“Eds, I’m dying over here, I fucking—oh!” Richie sounded his surprise when Eddie took him in hand, not bothering to ask for lube. Richie didn’t seem to mind. Eddie peered up at him as he began a steady rhythm, working it more confidently when Richie tipped his head back with a gasp. 

“Rich,” he said with a smile as he leaned forward again, placing the forearm of his free arm next to Richie’s head. Richie’s breathing began to pick up speed as Eddie’s hand did. 

“W-what?” He breathed when Eddie didn’t continue. The smaller man grinned and kissed him intensely, receiving a much appreciated groan. Eddie looked down at him smartly when he pulled away. 

“You’re fuckin’ _big_ is what.” He said, almost rolling his eyes. Richie tried to laugh but it only devolved into a low moan when Eddie gave an experimental flick of the wrist. 

“That’s—oh man, Eds, _please—_ ” He said, hitching a breath and gripping the sheets below him with one hand. Eddie raised his eyebrows.

“Please? Please what?” He teased with a cheeky smile. Richie clenched his jaw and looked up at Eddie with an alien fire in his eyes. 

“Fuckin’ _do that again, I’m begging you_.” He insisted, feeling along Eddie’s shoulder until he could hook his hand around the back of Eddie’s neck. Eddie kissed him again and repeated the motion. He groaned, low and deep in his throat, and Eddie smiled into the kiss until he broke away. Richie looked at him, pupils blown wide and lips a particularly vibrant reddish-pink from the almost-rough kissing. “You’re pretty good at that.” He growled, and it was enough to make Eddie think he could get hard again. 

“I’ve had some practice.” He said with a blush. Richie raised his eyebrows but stayed silent. Eddie could feel his curiosity hanging in the air and smiled shyly. “I wasn’t always married to Myra. And I _did_ go to college.” He said, and noticed that Richie was blushing as well. Slowly, he leaned down so he was near Richie’s ear. “But I’ve never liked it this much.” He whispered, reveling in the moan it drew from Richie. After maintaining a steady rhythm for a bit, Eddie began to notice the quietness that had settled around them and sped up his movements, throwing in a new move here and there. Soon, he had Richie gasping in between moans and curses, and he was loving it. 

“Eddie,” Richie eventually said with a new cadence to his voice. Eddie raised his eyebrows before realizing what it meant. For a moment, he almost felt panicked, but then he remembered the tissue box on the bedside table not far from him. He grabbed one and sped up a little more, grinning when Richie propped himself up on his own forearms and repeated Eddie’s name about fifty consecutive times. Eddie could nearly feel the orgasm shudder through the man when it arrived. Richie didn't make any noise, but instead took a few erratic breaths and squeezed his eyes shut with drawn eyebrows. His body tensed for a moment before relaxing as he let his head fall back with a breathy groan. Eddie managed to avoid getting most of the product of said orgasm on his hand, catching the worst of it in the tissue. As he sat back on his calves, Richie collapsed and slung one forearm over his eyes. His chest still heaved and Eddie grinned, crawling forward until he was laying beside Richie and able to curl his arm across his chest. For a moment, they just laid together, breathing in each other’s essence, and Eddie nearly felt like he could fall to sleep. Eventually, though, Richie got up and Eddie’s eyes fluttered open to find him pulling up his shorts and underwear, but not before Eddie got a particularly flattering view of his ass. Getting up himself, Eddie met Richie at his shirt, which he was collecting off of the floor. Eddie kissed him and slid his hands around his waist and then downward, earning a noise of appreciation from Richie. He chuckled and pulled away, regarding Richie appreciatively. 

“You’ve got a nice ass, Richie.” He said pointedly, ignoring Richie’s laugh and quiet “thanks, Eds” as he moved passed him to the bathroom to wash his hands with a new swagger in his step. Once inside, he looked at his reflection curiously. Eddie had never seen himself like this. His hair was a mess, sticking up in weird chunks and flattened in other places from being touched so much after putting gel in it. His eyes were suspended in a post-orgasm haze and looked like the kind of tired you feel when you wake up from a particularly amazing nap. His neck had a hickey and a half on it, which Eddie had forgotten about until now, and his lips were redder than usual, kiss-swollen as some might describe it. The look was almost beautiful. Eddie had never felt like he genuinely liked the way he looked more. He shivered, just realizing how cold one could get shirtless in a well air-conditioned house, and washed his hands quickly. “Rich,” he said once he was out of the bathroom, laughing lightly when he saw that Richie was sprawled out diagonally across the bed. 

“Eds, I think that might’ve been the best blowjob I’ve ever given and the best handjob I’ve ever received.” He said to the ceiling in mild disbelief. Eddie chuckled. 

“I can’t believe you still called me Eds even when I was literally jerking you off. You really reached a new level of ‘Dear Lord, Someone Stop Richie.’” Eddie said, feeling the familiar love in his chest spread to the tips of his fingers and toes when Richie laughed. “C’mon, let’s go outside.” He suggested, patting Richie’s leg and heading downstairs without double checking that Richie was following him. On his way outside, Eddie grabbed his phone and Richie his sunglasses. Once outside, Richie was still unusually silent, but Eddie didn’t mind. They laid on the two poolside chairs that Richie had and soaked in the warm California sun (after properly applying sunblock, of course). Before he closed his eyes to rest properly, Eddie shot a text to Bev. 

_Hey, you know all those dick jokes Richie makes? He’s not lying_

He smiled down at his phone when he got a response almost immediately:

_fucking FINALLY_

  
Shutting off his phone, Eddie reached over and intertwined his fingers with Richie’s and closed his eyes, resting his other hand on his heart. He felt it thrum rhythmically in his chest as he dozed off, his last thought being, quite clearly, e _verything is more than okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I almost forgot @stumbleflower wanted credit for the part where Eddie says Richie’s an awesome guy lol. Thanks for reading!


	14. In Exchange for your Time I Give you This Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie waits out the weeks leading up to moving to California and has some interesting interactions along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second to last chapter! Insane! Sorry it took me so long to post, it’s not a particularly long chapter, I just was swamped cause of classes lol. TW for homophobia, no slurs though. Hope you like the chapter :D

Eddie was starting to make a list of things Eddie From a Year Ago would think he was crazy for doing. So far getting a handjob from Richie Tozier while One Way or Another (among other hits by Blondie) blared from a record player just a few feet away topped the list. Walking into his office at nine thirty in the morning to pack up his office belongings in old jeans and a Loyola University Chicago sweater that was two sizes too big and didn’t belong to him was a close second. The last five days of his vacation had been spent fairly mellowly, the most hot-and-heavy activity with Richie being making out in basically every room of the house, save for the aforementioned handjob and the one Eddie gave Richie in return. They both decided that they didn’t want to start taking things too fast or too seriously until Eddie was fully moved in. He had needed to do more work in sorting out the move anyway and Richie got a call from his manager at least once a day as things were starting to pick up for him comedy and coming out-wise, and the time in between was mostly spent just hanging out and watching movies or going to casual restaurants that Richie thought Eddie would like (he did). At one point they went on a walk on the beach and Richie had chased Eddie into the ocean to the point of his shorts getting completely soaked at the bottoms of the legs. He had cursed at Richie with a grin but was vindicated when Richie nearly face-planted in the water, saving himself at the last minute. He promised that he would show Eddie around town properly once he returned, so he “had something to look forward to.” Eddie didn’t tell him that he was a reason to look forward to moving to California in and of himself, but he hoped that the sentiment was conveyed through the kiss he pulled him into after the proposition. The whole thing was nice, it felt like how vacation should feel, and the ache in Eddie’s chest when he had to leave was quite prominent in his goodbye. He was glad Richie had let him keep the sweater for the three or so weeks that they’d be apart. Even now, two weeks after Eddie’s return to New York, it still had some remainder of Richie’s scent lingering, bringing a prolonged sense of comfort over Eddie whenever he put it on. Entering the office floor that held his workspace with a moving box in each hand and running shoes on his feet, Eddie knew that there would be whispers and stares like there had been when he got back from Derry, but for the first time in his life he didn’t dread the scrutiny. He figured that if anyone had any questions, he’d answer them to the best of his ability while still staying under the radar. It wasn’t like he had to tell everyone in the whole building that he was moving to California because he was on more-than-friends terms with sort-of-famous and extremely straight presenting comedian Richie Tozier. As he loaded his belongings into his boxes, he heard a knock at the open door and looked up to find Michelle, the branch manager. 

“Michelle, hey! What are you doing here?” He asked cheerily. Normally, the branch manager only visited the offices when something either really good or really bad was happening. She gave a low chuckle and entered, closing the door behind her gently. 

“Everybody’s talking.” She said plainly, taking a seat in Eddie’s office chair, which he  had moved to the corner of the room to have more mobility when packing. He only chuckled in response. “And I gotta admit,” Michelle continued, leaning back in the chair with a light smile. “I kinda want to know what’s going on. Dish it, Kaspbrak.” She quirked an eyebrow in a way that demanded an answer. Eddie felt a slight twinge of awkward constriction settle in his chest, but tamped it down, reminding himself of the simple advice of the young cashier from the grocery store California.  _ Just answer the question, don’t make it weird. _

“I’m moving to L.A.” He replied nonchalantly. Michelle snorted and crossed her legs professionally, a strange contrast with her otherwise casual demeanor. 

“I know  _ that _ , I mean  _ why _ ?” She persisted, and Eddie chuckled nervously. He secretly  hoped she didn’t notice his growing anxiety. Avoiding her eyes, he cleared his throat, but she continued before he could reply. “I mean, you disappear for three days, come back with a  _ literal stab wound _ in your face and divorce papers for your wife, and then you cash in all your vacation days and spend them in  _ California _ of all places which, no offense, but you don’t strike me as the type to have friends in a place like L.A.—” 

“None taken.”

“—and then you come back saying that you’re  _ moving _ there and you start wearing stuff like… _ that _ . I mean, what the fuck happened in California that made you want to move across the country, did you meet your soulmate or something?” She said with a disbelieving chortle. “Also, since when did you go to Loyola?” Michelle was nearly worked up from all of the questioning. Eddie almost laughed, but settled for a small smile. 

“Well, I had a little…reunion thing with a bunch of old friends in Maine, but I got mugged and the guy stabbed me in the face.” He started, nodding appreciatively at Michelle’s quiet “oh shit” after the admission. It was sort of a lie, but it was the most believable rendition of the truth, so Eddie didn't feel too bad. “Yeah, so I came back, realized that my marriage was never going to make me happy no matter what, and finally got the balls to do something about it, partially with the help of the friends from Maine. And so yeah, one of them lives in L.A., he’s a comedian, and he asked me if I wanted to stay with him for two weeks so I did. Then he just…asked me to move in, so I said yes. I’m getting divorced and it’s not like I have anywhere else to stay, so.” He shrugged, focusing on the items he was putting into his boxes. He didn’t know why he disclosed Richie’s profession, but he was hoping she wouldn’t bring it up. Thankfully, she just stayed in stunned silence for a few beats before bursting into laughter. “What?” He said with a smile, finally feeling comfortable enough to meet her eyes. 

“That’s insane! Holy shit, Kaspbrak, that doesn’t sound real! You’re sure you’re not just  making this shit up so you don’t have to tell me the truth?” She asked, getting up and moving to the front of the desk that Eddie was still behind. She leaned on her hands, shifting a hip to the side as she studied Eddie incredulously. He almost laughed out loud at the irony of it. If only she knew the  _ real  _ real story. She’d probably admit him into a mental hospital if he told her everything that had actually happened. It definitely didn’t sound like the type of story a completely sane person would tell, now that Eddie thought back on it.

“Why is it so crazy? I have friends, you know.” He said accusingly, grinning  nonetheless. “Oh, and I didn’t go to Loyola, the sweatshirt is my b—uh, roommate’s. Housemate’s.” He said, catching himself before nearly saying  _ boyfriend _ . He and Richie hadn’t called each other  _ boyfriend _ or  _ partner _ or anything like that yet, so the almost-slip up startled him. He’d have to think about it later, because now Michelle was looking at him with a strange expression. Maybe she could tell that he freaked himself out. So much for keeping things under the radar. 

“ _Housemate_.” Michelle mused, leaning forward slightly. Eddie swallowed thickly, familiar nervousness returning. A short nod was all he offered in response. “Mm. It’s a shame you’re moving in with him, I’d always wondered what it would’ve been like if we had something between us. Of course, we couldn’t while I was your boss but…” Eddie’s eyes widened as Michelle drew up to her full height, playing with the collar of her dress shirt with one hand. “Now I’m not.” She finished quietly in what Eddie had to assume was an attempt at seduction. He felt an awkward blush creep up his neck. 

“Oh um. I…I appreciate it, really, you’re a very…you’re a beautiful woman and—”

“I’m sorry.” Michelle cut him off, any promiscuity receding rapidly. “I’m—I shouldn’t have brought that up, it would’ve just made things awkward anyway. I’m sorry, I should’ve known you’d—” Eddie silenced her with a hand, relating heavily to her nervousness. He had never really thought about the fact that underneath her professional manager-y composition, she was a whole human with desires and anxieties just like him. He kind of felt bad about it, but hey, better late than never. 

“Michelle, it’s not that. I would definitely want, uh, _that_ with you if you weren’t my boss. And if I was actually into women.” he assured, surprised at how non-panicky he was in telling her. He was the most calm that he’d been for the whole conversation, actually. Michelle’s eyes widened for a moment before a grin split across her face. 

“Holy shit. So that’s why you—okay. So…your friend that you’re moving in with?” She  asked, eyes bright, and Eddie blushed. She began to laugh, but Eddie knew that it wasn’t at him. “Oh my goodness, I just tried to hit on my gay employee who has a hot L.A. comedian boyfriend! This is—I’m really embarrassed right now, I’m so sorry. Wait,  _ is  _ he hot? I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, I shouldn’t have asked that.” She said between giggles, blushing and covering her mouth in mild astonishment. Eddie laughed and ran a hand through his hair, surprised at how well the conversation turned. 

“No, don’t worry about it, he  _ is _ hot. Or at least  _ I _ think so. He doesn’t, though. He's got kind of a DILF vibe even though he doesn’t have kids, which I really dig. He’s tall, like 6’2”, and he’s got like wicked big hands and he’s funny as fuck. Don’t tell him I said that. And his laugh, holy shit you should hear his  _ laugh _ . It’s like the most contagious thing in the world, I can’t get enough of it. He’s just—he’s such a nice guy, too. Like, he’s somehow the most rude, uncensored person I’ve ever met and also one of the best people I know.” He rambled enthusiastically. Michelle raised her eyebrows and Eddie anticipated another question based off of the look in her eyes. 

“I've never seen you like this, Edward. This is new.” She sounded almost impressed. “Can I see this mystery man of your affection? You’ve captured my curiosity.” She asked politely with a slight British accent, and Eddie realized that she and Richie would probably be fast friends if they ever met. It hadn’t been the first time that she’d done something Richie-esque, but all the times before Eddie wasn’t able to put his finger on who she reminded him of, what with the Derry amnesia and all. He contemplated the request before pulling out his phone, going against his better judgement. Before turning it on, he looked at her darkly. 

“Alright, but you can’t tell anyone about this, alright? Like, _anyone._ ” He warned, and Michelle put her hands up in mock surrender. “Swear it?” He asked as if he were thirteen years old. Michelle laughed for a moment before returning promptly to seriousness and nodded, holding out a hand.

“We can shake on it.” She suggested solemnly, and Eddie took her hand cautiously. He cleared his throat and turned on his phone, still slightly wary. 

“Do you want one that I took or a professional one?” He asked as his blush intensified. In his peripheral, he saw Michelle raise her eyebrows. 

“Uh. One that you took, I guess.” She said, sounding slightly confused. Eddie found a picture of Richie he had taken the day that they had told each other their feelings. They were outside, finally getting up after about thirty minutes lounging in the sun. Richie had the top three or four buttons of his awfully colored shirt undone so his chest was slightly exposed. He was sitting up on the poolside chair that they had been laying on and was looking off to the side unenthusiastically, which showed off his sharp jawline quite well, and seemed oblivious of Eddie and his phone camera. The next photo, which Eddie swiped to habitually, showed Richie in the same position and expression but looking into the camera and doing the hang loose symbol with one hand. They were two of Eddie’s favorite pictures in his phone gallery. “Oh,” Michelle said, surprised. “Okay. So that’s why I can’t tell anyone.” Eddie put the phone away quickly.

“You know him?” He asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. Michelle raised one eyebrow and looked at Eddie with aftershock still settling in her eyes. 

“Uh,  _ yeah.  _ My brother went to one of his shows like three years ago. Richie something,  right?  _ He’s  _ your boyfriend?” She asked almost disbelievingly. Eddie blushed. 

“W-Well we haven’t put a _label_ on it, I mean we only just started...stuff like halfway through the vacation.” He said, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “But something like that, I guess.” Michelle made an exaggerated “ooooh” noise, high pitched and teenager-ish. 

“Damn Kaspbrak, you got moves! I would say _tell me everything_ , but I have some boss-ly duties to attend to. You better text me from California, you’re my favorite employee. And not just because I thought you were hot, which I’m still sorry about by the way. Also I want that exclusive goss on Richie and all the Hollywood shit that goes down.” She patted his shoulder with a smirk. “It’s been a pleasure working with you, Eddie.” She added softly, returning to sincerity. Eddie gave her a bittersweet smile. 

“You were the best boss I’ve ever had.” He said truthfully. In some ways, Michelle was there for him more than Myra had been when they were married. After she left, Eddie finished packing in silence. On his way out, Dante from the Junior League approached him and Sharon, a co-worker he had been staying with who was helping him carry the boxes to his car. She also had taken the day off of work for reasons of her own, and Eddie was happy to have the company. 

“Hey, uh, Mr. Kaspbrak.” The young employee said meekly. He was fairly new to the firm and still hadn’t grown out of addressing Eddie formally. Eddie found that most of the people that worked under him stuck with calling him Mr. Kaspbrak, actually. 

“Please, it’s just Eddie. I’m not your boss anymore. Plus, you didn’t even have to call me Mr. Kaspbrak when I was, sorry I didn’t make that clear.” He said warmly. Dante nodded, a slight blush creeping under his tan skin. “What’s up, Dante?” Eddie asked when the young man didn’t continue. Dante’s eyes widened and he gave a strange, small smile. 

“I didn’t realize you knew my name.” He said, to which Eddie laughed. 

“I hired you, of course I know your name. Is there something you wanted to tell me?” He ushered, hoping he didn’t sound too crass. He  _ was _ on a schedule, after all. He’d be leaving for L.A. (again) in five days.

“Well, I just wanted to say that even though I didn’t know you too well, you were a really  good boss and you just—well we—a lot of us at the Junior League kind of wanted to thank you.” Just then, a few other Junior League employees appeared seemingly out of nowhere, one of them holding a small round store-bought cake that read  _ Good Luck in Cali!  _ Eddie found himself at a loss for words at the sight, feeling an ache in his chest that he’d never expected to experience in his office. Sure, he liked working there and he liked the people that he worked with, but he didn’t think that  _ they _ liked  _ him _ . It wasn’t like he was a fun, cool businessman that was always super chill about everything. In fact, he figured that when it came to work, he was a fairly by-the-books, rigid kind of guy. Definitely not someone who made a good impression with the Junior League, of all people. 

“I don’t—you guys, oh my goodness, I don’t know what to say.” He said, putting down his box and running a hand through his hair, genuinely moved. Rachel, the girl holding the cake, set it down and laughed slightly. “I—thank you guys, holy shit. Oh, sorry, language.” He scolded himself, feeling his heart warm further when Dante laughed organically. “Uh, here.” He offered, moving quickly to apportion the cake for Sharon and each of the Junior League members that had shown up. There was still more cake after, so he cut another slice and excused himself, deciding to give it to Paul as some sort of thank-you for housing him for so long. Eddie had offered to pay him rent, but he had only laughed and said that Eddie’s regular cleaning sprees were payment enough. On his way to Paul’s office, Eddie nearly crashed into Travis, the man who would be taking his job after today. Travis, who Eddie definitely didn’t like very much. He had a mischievous look in his eye and Eddie looked at him cautiously. “Travis,” he acknowledged, hoping for that to be the end of the interaction. Instead, Travis gave a weirdly condescending laugh as he stepped in Eddie’s way, not letting him pass. Eddie raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, and drew up to his full height. Travis was taller than him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to stand his ground. “I have to leave.” He said pointedly. Travis gave another short laugh and Eddie couldn’t help but feel like something was off.

“Yeah. L.A., huh? So I gotta ask…is it true?” He questioned lowly, and Eddie cocked his head to the side, unsure of what Travis was talking about. There were probably a lot of rumors going around. “That you’re moving to get away from your crazy ex-wife?” Travis clarified. Eddie felt some of the tension in his shoulders lessen. That wasn’t so bad. 

“Well, I wouldn’t call her _crazy_ , but overbearing, emotionally compromised, and unloving, sure.” He said unenthusiastically, ready for the conversation to be over. Travis gave a laugh that was a little too loud to be genuine and didn’t move to the side. Eddie forced his way around him and resumed his walk to Paul’s office, freezing when Travis spoke again. 

“Oh, that’s good. Lot of stuff is going around. I’m just glad the gay thing isn’t true.” He called, not loud enough for other people to hear but still setting off a prickle of anger and, quite frankly, panic down Eddie’s spine. He turned slowly with a glare, further angered when he found that Travis had an almost undetectable smirk on his face. Not undetectable enough, though. 

“Come again?” Eddie said darkly, struggling to keep his voice level. Travis’ smile widened and he shrugged. Eddie knew that he probably should ignore the guy, but he couldn’t bring himself to just walk away. He had always walked away when bullies just like Travis berated him in school, but it’s not like it helped, so he figured he’d stand up for himself for once and see how it turns out. 

“Yeah, some people have been saying you’re actually leaving your wife for a uh…for a man.” The taller man said slyly. Eddie pretended to take this as if it were highly interesting information, using sarcasm to mask his fear. 

“Oh, fascinating. And, just out of curiosity, who did you hear this from?” He asked, a part  of him actually curious. Travis just nodded in the direction of the culprit’s office and Eddie turned to find that it was Paul’s. He raised his eyebrows and chewed his cheek, anger boiling. He had  _ known _ Paul wasn’t trustworthy, no matter how generous he was. He turned back to Travis and reorganized out his thoughts. “Okay, cool, so I’m just—and please, forgive me for not understanding—but I think I’m just missing the part where that would actually matter.” He said flatly, developing a slight sense of pride when Travis’ sneer dimmed a little. He didn’t want to celebrate too early, though. 

“Well it would just be a shame to find out that a guy that I worked with for so long was  gay. ‘Specially right as he’s transferring, you know? I mean, who knows what kinda shit could’ve gone down behind the curtain all those years. Just kinda gross, isn’t it? I don’t know what I’d do if I found out he was thinking about me or anybody I work with like… _ that _ for so long.” Travis said sharply, and Eddie nearly laughed. Instead, he stepped closer and refused to break eye contact. 

“Well Travis, fun fact: nobody asked. So I’m just gonna file away your opinion as  irrelevant and move on. I hope you can do the same.” He said calmly, cutting Travis off when he tried to reply, already starting to seem aggressive. “Look, I’m sorry you’re too insecure with your own masculinity to face the fact that gay people exist and that there’s literally nothing you can do about it, but that’s not my problem. And, not to be ageist or whatever, but aren’t you like twelve years younger than me? Aren’t you supposed to be like the ‘young woke boss’? It’s 2016 dude, get with the times. Is it really so horrible that some dudes like dudes and some gals like gals? They’re not hurting anyone, are they? You shouldn’t be negatively affected by two guys holding hands or doing literally anything else romantic because it  _ doesn’t have anything to do with you _ . You need to start worrying about  _ yourself _ more than who  _ I _ like to fuck, because you come across as a real asshole to most people, and I think that’s probably a  _ bit _ worse than me liking dick. And for the record, I don’t think you have to worry about any gay guys being attracted to you anytime soon.” He gave a sarcastic smile and patted a speechless Travis on the shoulder for extra measure before turning on his heel and heading to Paul’s office, feeling vindicated. He gave a short knock on the door before opening it without waiting for a response. 

“Oh, hey Ed.” Paul said, and Eddie thought he could sense some slight sheepishness in his voice. He didn’t make eye contact.

“Paul, hey man!” Eddie replied with heavily fake cheeriness. He knew that using sarcasm as a defense mechanism wasn’t necessarily a good habit, but he was on a roll and couldn’t seem to stop. “Just wanted to say thanks again for everything you did for me in the past couple months.” Eddie carelessly set down the plate of cake, receiving a closed-mouth smile and a nod from Paul.

“No problem.” He offered before turning back to his work. Eddie didn’t move and instead leaned his forearms on the top of the empty chair that faced the front of Paul’s desk. When he didn’t say anything, Paul looked up again, an awkward tension quickly seeping into the air between them. “Is there…is there something else you…need?” He asked, eyes darting from Eddie to the door behind him to Eddie again. Eddie maintained his faux-thoughtful smile as he forced Paul into eye contact and shrugged.

“Well I also wanted to thank you for telling Travis, an actual homophobe, that I’m gay. I  mean, first you assume and confront me about it which, not gonna lie, was a little awkward buddy. Then after I told you I wasn’t, you still told  _ Travis _ , a man who thinks gay people are literally disgusting that is about to be put in a very high position of power, that I  _ am _ . Now, I don’t know if you could tell, but here and there in that sequence of events was some very subtle fucked-up-ness. And I’m not saying that you aren’t a good guy or whatever, I’m just saying you should probably think twice the next time you want to out someone who has enough anxiety as it is to a guy that hates him for simply existing. And it’s Eddie, not Ed.” By the time Eddie was finished talking, he was drawn up to his full height and he wasn’t smiling. Like Travis, Paul was stunned into silence. When it was clear that he wasn’t planning on coming up with an actual verbal response, Eddie nodded once and left the office. He thanked the Junior League members that had come to bid him farewell one more time and left with Sharon, who thankfully didn’t ask any questions. Once in Sharon’s car and on the road to her apartment, Eddie pulled out his phone to find a text from Richie. Eddie smiled down at the simple words. 

_ I have a crush on you _

Quickly, Eddie shot back a response. 

_ That’s so embarrassing _

He bit his lip and heard Sharon give a short chuckle. “What?” She asked warmly and Eddie shook his head. 

“Just the friend I’ll be staying with in L.A.” He replied simply, blushing at Richie’s next message. 

_ Not as embarrassing as you thinking about me when you jerk off _

And then:

_ Just kidding, it’s hot as fuck _

Eddie felt a familiar warmth pool in his stomach and he smiled down at the phone.  _ Well  _ _ too bad for you, cause I’m moving in, so I won’t have to do that anymore,  _ he shot back quickly, living for the fact that he could now talk as sexy as he wanted with Richie without it being weird. 

_ Jesus eds it’s two in the afternoon, i shouldn’t be allowed to get turned on this early when I’m alone in my house  _

By this point, Eddie was itching to hear Richie’s voice, an feeling that he had quickly gotten used to in the past two weeks apart from the man. He told Richie he’d call him later and put the phone away, afraid that he’d get a little too… _ heated _ if he continued the conversation. He tucked his boxes away in his car, which the moving company would pick up any minute, and rushed up to Sharon’s apartment. He had taken little enough belongings in the divorce to fit everything in his car, surprisingly, so everything would be transported to California at once. Aside from Eddie, of course, who was leaving in four days. “I’ve gotta make a phone call, do you need anything?” He asked Sharon, phone already in hand. She gave a short laugh and shook her head.

“I just remembered I had some errands to run, so I’ll be back in like half an hour. Or maybe not, Leah might be in labor by then, in which case I’m ditching you. Do  _ you  _ need anything?” She asked brightly, to which Eddie took his turn in shaking his head. He bid her and her sister, who was nine months pregnant, good luck before he was left alone. He was grateful for her swift absence as he was able to call Richie in the comfort of the apartment and not on the fire escape, which he had done last time to achieve some semblance of privacy. With the excitement of a small child at a playground, he sat down on the couch of Sharon’s living room and waited in anticipation for Richie to pick up. Finally, Richie’s voice cut through, taking on the guise of a game show announcer. 

“ _Edwaaaard_ Kaspbrak, come on dooown!” He said jubilantly, his smile clear in his voice. Eddie couldn’t help but grin.

“Hey doofus. I can’t believe I’m moving in with you in four days.” He replied, stomach swooping at Richie’s laugh. 

“I know, it’s insane. Soon you’re gonna be stuck with me and all my bullshit and that’s just the facts, babe. Con going back now.” He took on a casually reasonable tone and Eddie bit his bottom lip with a blush. 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. I miss you.” He replied softly as he laid out on the small couch. Richie made a small noise of acknowledgement. 

“Well when you get here I’ll make sure to take you on an actual date. Give you a reason  to stay.” He said quietly. Eddie’s chest ached with want as he felt a sudden rush of solemn love. He realized abruptly that he didn’t just want Richie, but  _ needed  _ him. It probably wasn’t good to be so dependent on the man, but he just couldn’t help it. Without Richie, Eddie felt like a part of him was genuinely missing, like he was only functioning at 50%. 

“I don’t think you realize that _you’re_ my reason to stay.” He finally replied knowingly. “You’re my favorite person, Rich.” He added, voice low. Richie was silent for a moment and for a second Eddie was afraid that he had crossed a boundary, that he’d moved too fast. He and Richie had only been more-than-friends for less than a month, and most of that time was spent on the opposite ends of the country. Was it too forward to say something like that? It was the truth, after all, and Eddie was always keen on being honest. The panic halted like a car smashing into a brick wall at top speed when Richie spoke in a calm voice similar to the one that he’d taken on in the cistern when he told Eddie he’s braver than he thinks. 

“The day Connor Bowers…the day I was chased out of the arcade, I carved our initials on the kissing bridge. You and me, I mean.” He said, sort of out of nowhere. Eddie was taken aback, so much so that he couldn’t think of a coherent verbal response. Richie cleared his throat and Eddie felt bad about his lack of response, which was probably stressing Richie out a little. It’s not like he could see Eddie’s appreciative but shocked expression. “Guess it was kind of like a ‘fuck you’ to all the bigots and assholes that made my childhood a shit-show. Sans the clown.” He punctuated the last sentence with an awkward laugh followed by a few beats of silence. “So yeah,” he continued, much to Eddie’s relief. He was never one to handle awkward silence well. “When we got back to Derry, after we got all cleaned up and stuff, I went back and re-carved it. I dunno, I guess I did it to show that they didn’t get me, you know? I was the one left standing. And you.” He finished quietly. Eddie would never admit it, but the whole thing nearly moved him to tears. 

“Richie, I don’t—I don’t know what to say, holy shit. You’re such a romantic.” He said with a breathy laugh, running a hand through his hair. He really didn’t know what to say, because all that was going through his head was  _ Jesus Christ, I’m so fucking in love with you.  _ Richie gave a hard laugh, vulnerable tone retreating rapidly. Eddie didn’t mind, he knew everyone had their own ways of showing their emotions, but sometimes he found himself missing that side of Richie. “God, I’m so—is it too forward to say that I’m incredibly in love with you?” He asked, biting his lip with a smile. Richie laughed again.

“And you say _I’m_ such a romantic. No, Spagheds, it’s not too forward. I’m pretty sure confessing that I’ve been in love with you for most of my life and then sucking your dick means that anything goes by this point.” Richie assured flatly. Eddie snorted before swiping his tongue across his teeth, his mind transporting back to the day. The moment. For a half-interval, Eddie had the fleeting thought of what it would be like to be in the position Richie had been in. He shook himself out of the haze quickly, still not used to having thoughts like that and not being obligated to feel ashamed. He knew Richie had been saying something, but the sudden detour in his thoughts prevented him from actually being able to pay attention.

“Uh, sorry, what?” He asked, cheeks warming. He added  _ thinking about giving Richie  _ _ Tozier a blowjob  _ to his list of things Eddie From A Year Ago would think were certifiably insane. If there was one thing he could always pick out in his mess of emotions, it was that he really liked lists. 

“Woah Eds, you good?” Richie said with a chuckle that was unable to hide his genuine concern. Eddie cleared his throat. 

“Yeah, yeah for sure. I just got distracted for a sec. What was it you were saying? Oh wait, I gotta tell you about the verbal smackdown I laid on these two guys at work today!” Eddie said excitedly as he attempted to promptly regulate the situation and his thought process. Richie gave a hefty laugh, which in turn made Eddie giggle. Just then, the notification that another call was coming in sounded. “Shit, it’s the moving guys, I gotta take this.” He said, quickly shifting into business mode. 

“Damn, I was really looking forward to hearing about you kicking homophobic ass. Alright, I might not be able to call anymore this week ‘cause Steve has been kind of on my ass about finishing up this section, so I’ll see you in four days! I—yeah, bye I guess.” Richie said almost shyly. Eddie didn’t have time to question it.

“Bye Rich, miss you already.” Eddie replied off-handedly before taking the other call.  The moving company worker announced that he was there so Eddie grabbed his keys and headed downstairs. His car and all his belongings were gone within ten minutes. He stayed outside for a moment, everything catching up to him for the first time since Richie had asked him to move in. He was moving in with  _ Richie Tozier. _ Richie Tozier, who loved him, wanted to  _ be  _ with him, knew him better than he knew himself. He felt a new kind of relief wash through him, and it felt  _ good _ . The whole rest of the day, he found that he couldn’t stop smiling. For the first time in a while, he was glad that he lived in New York, because the passerby seeing a man smiling like a crazy person on his midday run was probably just an average Tuesday for them. Sharon was gone most of the day, having to go to the hospital after running her errands since her sister went into labor as predicted, which left Eddie alone and in need of work. Habitually, he cleaned her apartment and packed and re-packed his clothes and carry-on items, which he hadn’t put in the care of the movers in case something happened to the moving truck along the way. He had been trying to regulate his paranoia, which got particularly intense when making big decisions, but figured taking  _ some  _ precautions wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes, he would stop mid-task and let out a disbelieving giggle at the fact that he was actually doing what he  _ wanted _ . He was finally letting himself be happy, and it was exhilarating. To his own surprise, he was actually tired by the end of the day, so he went to bed early after eating dinner alone. Sharon was staying at the hospital overnight to be with her sister, who’s delivery was successful, and Eddie didn’t want to stay up watching T.V. alone, so he made up his “bed” (the sofa) and let himself drift off into a heavy sleep. 

_ Richie led him through the crowd of blurry-faced strangers, refusing eye contact no _ _ matter how many times Eddie tried to force himself to his side. The crowd was too thick and Richie was too angry to notice, so he eventually conceded to staying behind Richie as he made headway to whatever their location was. Eddie didn’t know where they were going, but he knew that he was very stressed out by everything that was happening. The festival-goers were loud and young and it was hot as fuck and it definitely was not Eddie’s scene. He and Richie finally made it to a clear patch away from the crowd behind a comically large pick-up truck. The angry man looked down at him coldly, looking taller than ever. Eddie shrunk back, unsure of what was going on. He couldn’t seem to get any words out, and for a moment he and Richie just stared at each other, the tension thick enough to cut with a butter knife.“I don’t know who you are anymore.” Richie finally said, spitting the words as if they tasted bad on his tongue. Eddie felt an unexplainable guilt tinge his stomach as the backs of his eyes burned with tears.  _

Eddie awoke with a rush of guilt and pain followed quickly by confusion. With a shudder, he sat up on the couch and felt around for his phone in a slight panic. Still groggy and not entirely sure of what was going on, he texted Richie, hoping that he was awake. It was one in the morning, after all (in his haze, Eddie completely forgot about the existence of time zones). Richie responded fairly quickly, much to Eddie’s thanks.

_ Yeah I’m awake what’s up _

The text jolted Eddie into realizing that he didn’t entirely know what he was texting Richie for. Heart rate began to calm down and he squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again to respond. 

_I love you,_ was all he wrote. He imagined Richie would chuckle or smile at that, and the thought comforted him further, along with the bouncing ellipsis that signaled that Richie was typing. 

_ I love you too, Eddie baby,  _ the response eventually came. Eddie took a deep breath and shut the phone off, holding it to his chest as he relaxed into the couch.  _ Three more days _ , Eddie thought to himself. Three more days until he could be with Richie again. Three more days until he could go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to thank y’all for reading, I really appreciate it!! Any feedback or comments/kudos brings me Instant Serotonin, so feel free to do that if you’re inclined :)


	15. When The Moon Fell In Love With The Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie adjusts to life with Richie and makes a few realizations along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow so as y’all know this is the last chapter, so it’s pretty dang hefty, sorry I took so long to post lol. It’s got a bit of everything, sexy stuff, sad stuff, there is one scene where a homophobic slur is used, so TW for all that, but most of all it’s about the balance of good stuff and tough stuff in relationships. I hope you like it :D

_Cute cute cute! Loving the old man pajamas. All the fashion magazines are saying the Ebenezer Scrooge look is_ in _for teen boys across America._

_Richie, cut it out, you know I don’t like it when you say that._

_Say what, Spaghetti?_

_‘Cute cute cute.’ It’s annoying._

_Come on Eds, you know you love it._

_I do not. I also don’t like it when you call me Eds. Or Spaghetti._

_Why not? Eds is cute! It’s a good nickname, objectively. Short and no-nonsense, but still adorable. Like you! See, it’s perfect. I didn’t even make that connection before, holy shit. I’m a genius._

_It’s dumb. Plus, that explanation doesn’t even make sense because it’s_ not _adorable. It’s_ dumb _._

_You’re dumb. Come on, I want to go to sleep. Get in here._

_We’re fifteen, Richie, I don’t think we’re allowed to share a bed anymore._

_Says who, the Constitution? Quit the bullshit, Spaghetti, c’mere._

_It’s gay._

_Eddie, in the grand scheme of things, I’m sure a lot of the stuff we’ve done has been at least a little gay._

_But I’m_ not _ga—_

_I swear to fucking God Edward, if you don’t get in this very large, very not gay bed this instant I’m calling Sonia and making her do it instead. Get my sweet lady-lovin’ on._

_I hate you._

_You love me._

_No, I really don’t. If I did, it would only be ‘cause you buy me ice cream. That’s your one redeeming quality._

_Oh Eddie, speakin’ my love language right there. My poor heart can’t handle this. I’ll tell Sonia our next date night is a no-go._

_Nevermind, you are awful. No redeeming qualities._

_Well Eduardo, I’m sure when we get outta this shithole town you’ll find a nice little lady and settle down, but right now I’m the best ya got, so get in here._

_Fine. If you keep talking I’m leaving._

_You got it, baby._

_What did I just_ _say, what did I just say Richie?_

_Sorry, sorry! Goodnight Spaghetti._

_Goodnight Trashmouth._

Richie had one hand clasped loosely around Eddie’s and one on the wheel as they made their way to his house. Their house? Eddie wasn’t sure if he could call it that yet, but the thought that his car had already arrived and been picked up and unloaded the day before was oddly exhilarating. It had definitely lifted a weight from his shoulders, extinguishing the fear that something had gone wrong during transportation. It was strange, knowing his things were safe even if he wasn’t there to confirm it. In the car ride, Eddie felt surreal and disconnected. The only thing that felt constant was Richie’s hand grasping his, but other than that his brain was such a fast-moving mess of memories and thoughts that he wasn’t really even registering his surroundings. Richie’s voice cut through his haze and he abruptly zoned back in. 

“What’r you thinking about?” He sounded slightly amused. Eddie looked at him and blinked, momentarily forgetting how to speak human English words. 

“Uhh…I was just remembering a bunch of stuff from when we were kids. I’m sorry I said sleeping in the same bed was gay. When we were fifteen.” He said slowly, still coming to. Richie gave a short but genuine laugh and squeezed Eddie’s hand lightly. 

“I forgot about that, holy shit. That was around Christmas, right? I got so fuckin’ scared dude, I was afraid you’d figure it out. Or that you already had.” He said, passing it off as if it didn’t make a sickening guilt snake it’s way through Eddie’s veins. 

“I’m sorry. I was scared too. I thought the feelings that I had were there because of how much you and I did stuff like that. Being in the same bed, the hammock, whatever. I thought it was something I could catch, you know? I thought you were doing something to me. It didn’t even occur to me that I was literally just in love with you.” He confessed, finally looking at Richie as his eyes fully focused back in. Richie glanced at him with a reassuring smile. 

“You don’t have to apologize. Do you know how much homophobic shit I’ve said? Like, especially at that age? Way more than you babe, and I wasn’t even raised that way. I just really fuckin’ hated myself.” He said, suddenly striking a serious chord before abruptly falling silent. Eddie laced his fingers with Richie’s and took a shaky breath, feeling overwhelmed with too many emotions to actually identify any of them. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Richie glance at him like he had something he wanted to say. Instead, he pulled to the side of the highway and slowed to a stop before unbuckling his seatbelt. Eddie looked at him in confusion but was pulled into a tentative kiss before he could ask any questions. He unbuckled his own seat belt without breaking the kiss, turning his body to make Richie more accessible. Richie’s hand cupped his neck, the thumb caressing soft circles into Eddie’s hair. It was a comforting kiss, well-paced and calm with an almost imperceptible undertone of need. Richie pulled away but didn’t stop touching Eddie, sliding his hand from his neck to his forearm loosely. He took a heavy breath and chuckled on the exhale, smiling at Eddie giddily. “I can’t believe you’ve been here for like half an hour and I’m just doing that now.” He sounded genuinely surprised with himself. Eddie laughed lightly and looked richie up and down. Old jeans, one of many slightly-too-big t-shirts with a faded logo on it, and a patterned open button-down that could’ve once been nice over that. Eddie was mad that he found Richie attractive in basically everything he wore, no matter how un-matching the colors or ugly the Hawaiian shirt. 

“Well you can do it more when we actually get home, but right now I’m pretty sure people will think the car broke down if we stick around on the side of the literal highway.” He said, attempting authority but unable to repress his smile. Richie laughed and shifted back into drive.

“Right-o, govna.” He said brightly in a particularly bad version of his British Guy Voice. Eddie rolled his eyes and laced his fingers with Richie’s once more, relishing in the bloom of warm love that spread from his heart when Richie squeezed his hand gently. “I don’t think I could ever stop loving you.” Richie muttered softly without taking his eyes off the road. Eddie blushed and looked down at their intertwined fingers. 

“I don’t think I could ever stop loving you either. You’re my favorite person. I hope you don’t get tired of me saying shit like that ‘cause I’m probably going to do it a lot.” He replied with a grin. Richie gave a knowing laugh as he pulled onto his street. 

“Oh babe, I don’t think that’s possible. Like, scientifically. Fuckin’ makes my year, dude.” He parked the car in the garage next to Eddie’s. It was extremely weird seeing his car already there, but Eddie couldn’t say that it was a _bad_ weird. In fact, it was a very _good_ weird. He and Richie had barely gotten his luggage in the house before Eddie took the opportunity to sling his arms around Richie’s neck and pull him into a deep kiss. It wasn’t long before he had Richie pressed against the kitchen counter, kissing him as if the world was ending around them. Insatiable. Eddie didn’t know where the sudden desperation came from, but Richie definitely didn’t mind. He was pretty much on par with Eddie, actually, running his hands over every square inch of him that he could. Eddie was determined to make Richie feel the way he felt every time he merely looked at him. Saying that he loved Richie didn’t even cover half of it. Richie was Eddie’s whole world, as cheesy as it was. Maybe it was the vehement way Richie moaned into the next kiss, maybe it was the way he looked at Eddie when he pulled away to take a quick breath before diving in for another kiss, maybe it was the way he had touched Eddie in some way, even if it was just a simple pat on the shoulder, every chance he got since Eddie had arrived in California that made Eddie drop to his knees. He didn’t know why, but he also didn’t care. He was just glad that Richie was more than eager to go along with it. 

Eddie was very pleased to find that he had kicked off some sort of pattern between him and Richie because of the…enthusiasm he had exhibited his first day back. He was soon fully settled in to living with Richie and had integrated surprisingly well into the West Coast branch of his insurance company, which coincidentally had an opening for his position, and fell quickly into a good rhythm of existing in California. Shoulder Devil Richie rarely made any appearances and Eddie found that his life overall had taken a positive turn. That could’ve been in part due to the fact that he frequently found himself pushed against a wall or into a couch or bed and getting the life kissed out of him. He and Richie didn’t talk about it ever, it just sort of happened. Some days he’d come home from work and Richie would just sort of…offer himself up, use his hands or mouth in a way that made Eddie feel like his brain was melting. Sometimes Richie would smile at Eddie in a way that gave him the inexplicable urge to kiss him senseless and shove his hand down Richie’s pants, so he would. It was a routine, and a damn good one at that. Eddie liked routines in general because they were constant, reliable, and they made sense. His whole life was made up of them, naturally, but this was by far his favorite. He didn’t have to plan it out or talk about it, which would probably be the best part if the…if whatever they were doing didn’t feel so fucking amazing every time. Eddie didn’t know if it could be considered sex or if only _going all the way_ was technically sex, but he didn’t really like thinking about it much so he didn’t. Bottom line was that basically everything was going great for Eddie. That was, at least, until Richie fucked it up. Well, that wasn’t fair, it was technically Eddie who fucked it up with his stupid fear of change and the unknown coupled with his inability to communicate about anything remotely related to “sexual needs and desires” or whatever, but he wasn’t going to readily admit that anytime soon. It had happened like this:

It was a Tuesday about four months into living with Richie and Eddie had experienced a particularly hectic day at work. He got home quite late and was in desperate need of some quality time with Richie. Unfortunately, he found the comedian typing away at something that seemed particularly important in the living room. His eyebrows were drawn together in concentration and he barely looked up at Eddie when he joined him on the couch, further confirming the necessity of whatever he was working on. Also confirming that Eddie probably wouldn’t get the type of… _sympathy_ he needed any time soon. The TV was on but the volume was almost all the way down, which meant it was only background noise for Richie, something Eddie had learned Richie worked well with. Eddie had lasted about three minutes before his need for attention became too annoyingly persistent to ignore.

“What is this?” He asked gesturing towards whatever movie or show was on, knowing that Richie wouldn’t give a straight answer if Eddie asked him about his work. It was the only thing that Richie was actively secretive about. He glanced at the TV, then Eddie, then right back to his work. 

“You’ve never seen Swingers?” He replied distantly, clicking the keys on his computer with such focused force that Eddie considered shutting up and getting something to eat or doing anything else that would distract him from the palpable lack of Richie that he was enduring. He wasn’t to back down, though, glad that Richie was at least willing to have a half-conversation, if anything.

“Holy shit, is that Vince Vaughn? That’s crazy.” He leaned forward, actually developing an interest in what was playing out on screen, and was gratified when Richie responded instead of plunging them back into almost-silence.

“I know, right. Hot Vince Vaughn and Jon Favreau always catch me off guard.” He replied, the tension that he had been holding beginning to disperse. Eddie made a “hm” noise. 

“Right, it’s like you go through your day thinking you’re not gonna see the guy from The Break-Up and Happy Hogan as sexy young bachelors, but then bam, there they are. It’s a little unnerving.” He replied, savoring Richie’s genuine chuckle. 

“Aren’t you glad I made you watch all three Iron Man movies back to back? Now you get to see all sides of Jon Favreau. Sexy and everything.” He teased with a smile, eyes still glued to the computer screen in front of him. “It’s always weird when someone who’s genuinely funny is also insanely hot. Like damn, can’t you just pick one like the rest of us.” He added with a short laugh before Eddie could reply. This left him thinking for a moment before he got up and stood directly in front of Richie with crossed arms, finally getting the man to look at him for more than two seconds, completely blocking the computer on the raised coffee table. Richie raised an eyebrow and gave a sort-of-smile. “Is there something you wanted to say or are you just gonna keep looking at me like I’m about to get fired for going a little too far in the office on April Fool’s Day?” He asked, deadpan. If Eddie hadn’t spent years perfecting his stone cold persona he might have faltered at this, but thankfully he was an expert in ignoring when Richie was trying to be funny. 

“Bullshit. What about you?” He asked right as Richie tried to get back to his computer. This got him to stop. 

“What?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, genuinely confused. Eddie’s expression didn’t change. 

“I _said_ what about _you_ , asshole. Why haven’t you picked?” He reiterated, stepping forward until he could lean his hands on the back of the couch, forcing Richie into eye contact. Eddie felt his heartbeat become almost intimidatingly noticeable when Richie’s eyes dilated. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said with a grin, slipping his hands around Eddie’s waist and silently urging him to move closer. Eddie got the signal and took off his suit jacket before kneeling on the couch so he was basically straddling Richie. He and Richie found each other’s lips quite quickly and even though it was kind of an awkward position, it was definitely one of the sexier things Eddie had partaken in since he had moved in. Something about the way Richie would try to pull him closer when they already had no space between them just held so much intimacy that he found himself muttering “I love you” under his breath whenever he wasn’t silenced with a kiss. Now, this all probably seems quite good, no fucking up in sight, and it was. Making out on the couch after nearly nine hours of Richie deprivation was always pretty damn good in Eddie’s book. He had soon taken Richie’s shirt off and was working on undoing his jeans when things went downhill. 

“God, I wanna fuck you.” Richie had mumbled casually in between appreciative kisses to Eddie’s neck. Logically, Eddie knew that this was normal. They’d been dancing around the subject for four months, intentionally or not, so of course it was bound to come up at some point. Their sex life so far didn’t really extend beyond handjobs and blowjobs, and Eddie had been pretty sure that both of them wanted to take it to the next level at some point in the near future for a few weeks now. When Richie said it out loud, though, all he could do was freeze. This, in turn, made Richie freeze as well before leaning back to look at Eddie, who was too speechless to even make eye contact. 

“I uh…” he finally managed out, getting up and grabbing his suit jacket. He held it in front of him protectively, irrationally embarrassed by the boner that he knew Richie had felt moments before. “I just remembered that I have some work I need to finish up…on the—yeah. Sorry.” He said with a little more sharpness than necessary. He briskly made his way upstairs without a look back, even when Richie called after him. So that’s how Eddie had ended up where he was now, pacing in the guest bedroom after taking the first anxiety-related cold shower in four months, phone in hand. He contemplated calling Bev, the only Loser that knew about him and Richie’s advancement in their relationship to his knowledge. The couple supposed that the other Losers would figure it out on their own eventually. Before Eddie could even turn the phone on, though, his internal ramblings were interrupted by a knock at the door. He paused without breathing before walking as slow as he possibly could and opening it a crack. Richie raised his eyebrows and looked at him with something close to pity in his eyes. They stood together for a moment, just looking at each other through the little sliver that Eddie provided, before Richie spoke. 

“Hey. I put some of the pizza from yesterday in the toaster oven, but if you want something else for dinner I can just—”

“No, no that’s fine, that’s good.”

“Good. Cool. Can I come in?”

The question that Eddie had anticipated. He didn’t know how he knew it was coming and yet still didn’t know how to answer, but he did _not_ like it. On one hand, he wanted to be in the same room as Richie every minute of every day. They were still sort of in the honeymoon period, that was natural. On the other hand, Eddie knew that Richie was going to make him talk about what happened and his feelings and all that shit, which he nearly hated more than bowling alleys (one of the top germ spreaders in America…Eddie really hated bowling alleys). Eddie realized that Richie was probably expecting a response, as most people do when you ask a question, and cleared his throat awkwardly. 

“Uh yeah, sure.” He said, retreating into the room and sitting on the edge of the bed without opening the door any further for Richie. He kept his eyes on the floor in front of him, even when the bed dipped with Richie’s weight next to him, and paid attention to his heart as it forced out unbearably loud, rhythmic beats. 

“So,” Richie said casually, only a hint of awkwardness in his voice. Much less than Eddie was feeling in the moment, for sure. “Do you wanna…talk about what happened?” He asked softly. Eddie shut his eyes and let out a sigh from his nose, hunched over with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped anxiously in front of him. Right. Now the talking about the feelings shit. He could do this.

“No.” He replied glumly, Richie’s eyes burning into the side of his face. Apparently he couldn’t. He was still unable to bring himself to make eye contact, but he at least didn’t feel like he was being constricted by awkward shame anymore. Richie wanted the truth, so Eddie figured might as well give it. “I just want things to go back to normal.” He glanced at Richie and immediately regretted it, internally cringing at the worrisome look on his face. When he didn’t say anything, Eddie ran an exasperated hand through his hair and let himself fall back on the bed. Richie joined him seconds later, saying nothing. They stared at the ceiling together for a few long minutes before Richie turned on his side to look at Eddie once more. He avoided eye contact until Richie’s hand found his, warm fingers gently tracing the lines of his palm. He chewed the inside of his cheek, bracing for whatever Richie was going to say next. 

“Everything okay?” Was all he offered, voice barely a whisper. There was so much tension in Eddie’s chest that he could barely breathe. He didn’t want Richie’s pity. He didn’t even want Richie’s sympathy or empathy or whatever it was he was trying to deliver with the way he was looking at Eddie. He just wanted Richie to crack some stupid joke and ruffle his hair and talk about the cinematic mastery of The Grand Budapest Hotel through mouthfuls of pizza. Feelings were hard. 

“I just…I don’t want to be like this. With you. You know?” He tried, giving into Richie’s not-so-silent plea for him to talk about his feelings. Richie unfortunately shook his head, meaning Eddie would have to give up on answering with vague truth and actually dig deep. Part of him wanted to say _if I wanted to talk about my feelings like this, I’d just schedule my next therapy appointment_ , but he wasn’t a monster, so he ignored that part of him. “I just…I hate being so scared. Of that kind of thing. But I can’t really…I can’t go through with anything until I stop getting so nervous I feel like I’m gonna pass out. I don’t want you to think that I don’t want it, because I do. Like, a lot. But I also need time to be okay with that. I guess. I don’t know if that makes sense.” He said, a good amount of the tension in his chest dispersing. Richie returned to being flat on his back and laced his fingers with Eddie’s. 

“Yeah, it does. I love you. You…yeah. I get it.” He replied. After that, they had a spotty conversation until the timer on the pizza went off. Richie would ask a question, Eddie would answer it to the best of his ability, and if Richie didn’t have a follow-up question they would fall back into a comfortable silence until one of them thought of something else in need of discussion. They went over what Eddie had already done and what he was comfortable with doing and it was…good. Eddie had been dreading it, but it was good. During dinner, he asked Richie to tell him about The Grand Budapest Hotel. 

That week, Richie finished the final draft of his show. 

Two weeks later, he came out publicly.

The radiant mix of pride and adoration and love Eddie felt when he saw Richie talk about his simple tweet that he had broken the news with (all it said was “im gay lol”) on Stephen Colbert nearly made him cry, and Eddie rarely cried from happiness. He rarely cried period, so the intense wall of emotion that slammed into him came as a bit of a shock. After the show, he met Richie backstage, eternally grateful that he could actually do that, and tackled him with a hug. After that, things naturally got really busy. Richie was getting ready for his tour, dealing everything surrounding his coming out, and sorting things out with Netflix. Eddie’s own job was as busy as ever, resulting in him staying at work late more often than not. A week and a half before Richie was to begin performing again, he came home from a meeting with the execs that were producing the special with an excited look in his eye. It was the first day Eddie had gotten home before Richie in a while and they were both deeply craving each other. 

“What happened at the meeting?” He asked breathlessly as Richie softly pressed him into the kitchen counter, kissing his neck in a way that would leave a mark. It felt so good that Eddie didn’t have the motivation to remind Richie that he had work the next day. 

“Filming’s gonna be in Chicago. ‘S official.” Richie mumbled before pulling Eddie into another kiss by his shirt collar. Something about it flipped a switch in Eddie, prompting him to push Richie away with one hand. Richie drew his eyebrows in confusion at this, looking almost hurt, his heartbeat heavy and fast beneath Eddie’s hand. He bit his lip and let his eyes wander up and down Richie for a moment, taking in his already disheveled hair, untucked shirt, squared shoulders. Still confused, Richie tried to lean forward and kiss Eddie again, but he kept his hand firmly placed against Richie’s rapidly rising and falling chest. The taller man restlessly played with the hem of Eddie’s own untucked shirt, clearly unsure of what was happening and what to do about it. He was blushing. If the switch hadn’t been fully flipped before, it definitely was now. 

“I think,” Eddie said finally, voice gravelly. “We should go upstairs.” He took his hand from Richie’s chest, who seemed to be considering this. He turned without waiting for a response, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt as he made his way out of the kitchen. 

“Wait a minute sexy,” Richie said, his hands suddenly on Eddie’s hips. He spun Eddie so they were facing each other in the same motion, eliciting a small yelp and giggle of surprise from the smaller man. “What’s going on?” Richie asked with a grin, moving as if he were going to kiss Eddie but stopping right before their lips connected, instead nuzzling his nose against Eddie’s in a way that made him weak at the knees. Richie pulled back just enough so that he could properly look down at Eddie again, but their bodies stayed close. “We’ve done stuff in here before. What’s different about tonight?” He asked quietly. Eddie slipped his hands into the back pockets of Richie’s jeans and looked at him thoughtfully, a wild lust burning in his heart and further below. 

“What’s it to you?” He teased, biting his bottom lip with a smile. Richie gave a low chuckle, unfazed. 

“Can’t a guy be a little curious?” He asked, running a hand through Eddie’s hair and settling it so it was cupping the back of his neck. Eddie shrugged but couldn’t suppress his love-drunk smile.

“It’s nothing, ‘m just pretty sure we don’t keep condoms in the kitchen.” He said casually. Richie looked down at him with half lidded eyes, a dazed expression on his face. 

“Why would we need—” His eyes widened and he pulled back a little more. “O-oh. Oh I get it now. Okay. Holy shit. You…you want that? You’re sure” Richie pulled away completely, forcing Eddie’s hands out of his pockets. His blush deepened and he gave a smile that was almost incredulous. Eddie raised his eyebrows and smiled back with an enthusiastic nod. 

“I’m tired of being scared. I know you. I trust you.” He replied with a shrug, going back to heading upstairs and smiling when Richie followed like an overexcited puppy. Their shirts were off within thirty seconds of entering the bedroom, a new kind of eagerness settling around them. Once on the bed, Eddie fumbled with Richie’s belt before Richie grabbed his wrist, shocking him not only into stopping, but also into complete breathlessness. He wouldn’t pretend he didn’t find it extremely sexy. 

“Wait. Ground rules.” Richie said, looking at him in a way that Eddie had never seen before. The control Richie suddenly possessed made it so that Eddie could only nod in response. “If I do anything that makes you uncomfortable or that you’re unsure of, you tell me. If something hurts when it shouldn't, you tell me. If there’s anything you want me to do that will make it a better experience for you or just overall, you tell me. If you want me to stop completely, _you tell me_.” He said with a seriousness that Eddie was unused to. He nodded again, still slightly shocked. Richie’s sudden force retreated quickly and he let go of Eddie’s wrist with a half-shy look. “Um. Anything you want to add?” He asked, blushing slightly. Eddie shook his head. They sat in silence for a moment before Richie grinned and moved forward until he was kissing Eddie again. They eventually settled into a good position, Eddie on his back and Richie with a leg on either side of Eddie’s waist. He almost audibly whimpered when Richie pulled away and kneeled up, but was quickly gratified when Richie took off his belt in a surprisingly smooth motion. Eddie propped himself up on his elbows and moaned unapologetically into the next kiss that Richie initiated, both hands gently placed on each side of Eddie’s face. After that, things were a bit of a blur. At the same time, though, every second passed with a clarity that Eddie had never experienced before. It was confusing. It was strange. New. A little gross if Eddie thought too much about it, but he knew that was just his shitty upbringing and internalized homophobia (a term he had just recently learned in one of his therapy sessions) talking. It hurt sometimes, but it wasn’t anything Eddie couldn’t handle, and it definitely wasn’t bad. It was pretty exhilarating, actually. And…well, it was indescribable. The whole time Eddie was feeling a lot of feelings and getting through a lot of fears, but at the end that was all replaced by a blinding rush of pure pleasure and relief. After settling down from the particularly intense orgasm that had occurred, Eddie blinked the stars from his eyes until he was staring at the ceiling, Richie by his side doing the same. 

“Holy shit.” He said, chest heaving. Richie chuckled, breathing harder than Eddie. 

“Yeah. Wanna shower?” He asked looking over at the smaller man with flushed cheeks. His hair was sporting a particularly messy post-sex style. Some of it was slick with sweat, some was sticking up at odd angles, it was tangled in a lot of places and it was even more curly than usual. Eddie loved it. 

“Yeah just…gimme a second. I’m kinda—that was a lot. I need to…you’re _good_ at that, holy fuck.” He said with a breathy laugh that Richie returned. 

“Why thank you, my love. You were too.” He said, turning on his side and studying Eddie, who looked back at him without smiling. 

“Dude. It was my first time. You don’t have to like…” He waved his hand in the air as if it would help him think of the right word faster. “Lie.” Was all he could come up with. Richie chuckled and kissed him on the cheek, an almost comically chaste move considering what they had just finished doing. 

“No lies from me, baby. If I hadn’t known I probably wouldn’t have been able to tell.” He said, absentmindedly trailing two fingers along Eddie’s chest. “Might’ve thought you hadn’t gotten laid in like ten years, but definitely wouldn’t have suspected you were a full virgin.” He added jokingly. Eddie rolled his eyes. 

“Asshole.” He quipped back. The familiar banter made him suddenly aware of how spent and, frankly, dirty he felt. Not like sexy dirty, though. More like really-sweaty-with-cum-drying-on-his-stomach dirty. “I’m so sweaty, dude.” He said despite not getting up. He still felt supremely drained, as if his legs would give out underneath him when he got up, but Richie seemed just fine when he stood up and stretched, allowing Eddie to admire his body from the bed. He made his way to Eddie’s side of the bed and held out a hand. Instead of taking it, Eddie swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up himself, but took Richie’s hand the minute was standing without the assistance of the bed, still not entirely confident in the functionality of his legs. Richie looked like he was suppressing a laugh. “Stop that, jerk-face. I’m a forty year old guy that just got fucked for the first time, I’m allowed to be a little out of it.” Eddie muttered defensively, causing Richie to let out the laugh he’d been repressing. He took his hand out of Richie’s and stretched, already beginning to feel capable of getting back to normal. “Am I gonna be sore tomorrow?” He asked as they made their way to Richie’s bathroom, the layout similar to the guest bedroom that Eddie had occupied when he had first visited. 

“ _I’m_ going to be sore. I don’t know about you, it’s your body. Actually, no, you’re definitely going to be sore, I don’t know why I said that. Sorry, I guess you’ll have me to blame.” He said, turning around when Eddie didn’t respond. His reflection in the bathroom mirror had caught his eye and he had distracted himself with studying the image. It was reminiscent of the day he and Richie had first become more-than-friends. This time, though, it was _more._ His hair was...well, it didn’t even look like he had styled it at all that day, to say the least. His pupils were blown wide and there was a look in his eyes that had never been there before. A few hickeys dotted his neck and he wasn’t sure if his work shirt would cover the highest one. His lips were red and less thin than usual, definitely looking as if he had just had a particularly ferocious make-out sesh and hi cheeks and neck were still blushing slightly red. He looked slightly sweaty here and there and his muscles were defined in the way that they usually were after a good workout. Richie appeared behind him in the reflection and nestled his chin in the crook of Eddie’s neck. His arms snaked around Eddie’s waist, allowing him to clasp his hands together in front of it. The way his chest pressed comfortingly against Eddie’s shoulder blades caused the smaller man’s eyes to flutter shut appreciatively. He felt Richie press a loving kiss into his neck and hitched a breath, suddenly feeling too many emotions at once. It was overwhelming in the best possible way, but he couldn’t bring himself to put it into words. 

“I love you,” was all he managed out, a broken whisper that he wasn’t even sure if Richie heard. He opened his eyes when he felt Richie’s pressure leave him and heard his glasses clatter on the sink table. Richie turned on the shower water before facing Eddie with a small smile. Instead of saying anything, he brought Eddie into a sweet kiss. When he pulled away, his eyes were shiny. Eddie drew his eyebrows together and caressed his cheek, not entirely sure of what Richie was going through in the moment. “Rich?” Was all he needed to say to get Richie to tell him what was happening.

“I love you too. A real fuckin’ lot.” He explained, huffing a breathy laugh and blinking the tears from his eyes. “Fuck, I said I wouldn’t cry.” He laughed again and pulled Eddie into a close hug. 

“It’s okay. Come on, let’s get in the shower. You can cry all you want and I won’t tell the difference.” He said, receiving a ruffle of the hair. 

“Asshole. I have a lot of feelings.” Richie stated pointedly in an overly exaggerated valley girl voice, stepping in the shower after Eddie. He knew that even though Richie said it jokingly, he wasn’t lying. He was feeling everything that Eddie was, he was just better at expressing it. Halfway through the shower, Eddie was hit by a wall of fatigue that he internally scolded himself for not anticipating. “Woah, you good babe?” Richie asked when Eddie began to sway on his feet. He turned to face Richie and smiled tiredly. 

“Y-yeah, I just…I’m kind of spent.” He said, going back to face the faucet and turning up the cold water without asking. He turned back to Richie and distantly thought about how intimidating Richie was capable of being solely because of his height. If he wanted to, that is.

“Yeah, no shit. Is there—ah, fuck, that’s cold!” Richie jumped back a little with a high pitched chuckle. “Why would you—oh right, I’m in love with a psycho. How could I forget.” He said with a grin, reaching behind Eddie and grabbing the conditioner without breaking eye contact. Eddie was almost too tired to roll his eyes. Almost. 

“‘M not a psycho, I just prefer cold water. Doofus.” He mumbled, annoyed at how good it felt when Richie started to work the conditioner into his hair. When he looked up at Richie’s face, the man looked thoroughly pleased. “Are you enjoying this?” Eddie asked, placing his hands loosely on Richie's hips. 

“Yeah dude, I’ve wanted to do this for a damn long while.” He said enthusiastically as he rinsed the residual conditioner off his hands. 

“You’ve wanted to…condition my hair?” Eddie asked dazedly, moving his thumbs in slow circular motions over Richie’s hip bones. 

“Condition it, wash it, wash you, whatever. Shower with you. It’s just kinda intimate. I like it.” Richie replied with a shrug, working his fingers into Eddie’s hair once more to help get the conditioner out. Instead of responding, Eddie found himself mindlessly studying Richie again, captivated by his body for who knows why. Maybe it was just because of how in love he was.

“Has anyone told you you’re sexy as fuck?” He growled, words running together a little from how absolutely beat he felt. Richie gave a small laugh. 

“Has anyone told you you’re very compliment-y after doing literally anything sexy?” He retorted, amused. Eddie simply turned around and shut the water off, not bothering to respond. After getting dressed and brushing their teeth, they stood before the bed, Eddie looking down at it disapprovingly. 

“Should we change the sheets? We should change the sheets.” He stated, feeling a little more in his head now that he was showered and moving. He was still tired, but it was normal late-night tiredness, not bordering on passing out tiredness. He saw Richie yawn and shrug out of the corner of his eye and momentarily felt bad, but knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep in the sheets that were on the bed now. Baby steps. 

“Whatever floats your boat, babe.” Richie said, already stripping the bed. His hair was fluffy and dry, unlike Eddie’s, who didn’t trust blow dryers. Once in bed, Eddie found that despite his excessive exhaustion, he couldn’t sleep. 

“Rich?” He whispered into the dark. “You awake?” He felt Richie shift close and smiled when he draped his arm across Eddie’s chest. 

“Hmn?” Richie mumbled into the pillow. Eddie turned so he was facing him. His eyes were closed, but he was definitely awake. 

“I’m pretty sure I told my old boss in New York that you’re like a DILF without kids.” Eddie confessed, biting his lip to suppress a tired giggle. Richie opened his eyes at this, but his expression was unreadable, especially in the dark. 

“I didn’t know you knew what that was.” Was all he said, so deadpan that Eddie couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. Eddie let out a soft chuckle and swatted Richie’s shoulder, turning on his other side so he and Richie could properly spoon. 

“Well now you’re like a...K-D-I-H-F.” He whispered. Richie made a curious noise and shifted so he could wrap an arm around Eddie and lace their fingers together. “A Kidless Dad I Have Fucked.” He said, smiling when Richie chuckled into the back of his neck. 

“A Kidless Dad You Were Fucked By.” Richie corrected. Eddie let his eyes fall shut as he began to feel sleep inching closer. 

“Semantics.” He mumbled, glad that the night was no longer looking like it was going to be a sleepless one. “I love you, Richie.” He whispered. For a moment, he thought that Richie might have fallen asleep because of how long he took to respond. 

“I love you too, Eds.” He finally replied. Eddie was too tired to say “that’s not my name” so he simply let the clutches of deep sleep steal him away for the night. 

The morning after, Eddie walked into work with an undeniable blush, a hickey that wasn’t quite concealed by his shirt collar, and an ear worm of an early 2010s pop song stuck in his head. Richie had been singing it that morning for God knows why and Eddie knew that it would be in the back of his mind for the rest of the day. He was glad that he didn’t have any meetings that day. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle that, the pop song, and the half-visible hickey all at once. If he walked fast enough, people probably wouldn’t notice it. Right? He thought so, until lunch rolled around and he was faced with an…interesting situation. It started with a knock at the door. 

“It’s unlocked.” He said absentmindedly, busy with not only his salad, but also some spreadsheets that were in dire need of updating. Lindsey, the receptionist of his floor, entered and closed the door behind her, a mischievous but innocent smile on her face. She stayed silent. “Is there…what’s up, is there something you need?” Eddie asked, barely making eye contact for a few seconds before going back to his spreadsheets. 

“No it’s just that…okay, this may be really inappropriate, but some other people in the office and I have been trying to figure out your situation for a while.” Lindsey said sheepishly. Eddie looked at her in confusion. 

“My situation?” He asked, taking a bite from his salad. 

“Yeah, like whether you’re taken or not, ‘cause I heard from Sean in HR that you used to be married, but we weren’t sure if that was true or if you still are married or what, but either way by this point we got tired of trying to figure it out and so I volunteered to actually…ask you. I didn’t even really want to know that bad, but Lauren wanted to know really bad and I was fed up with her talking about it like every day, so...yeah.” The young employee said sheepishly. Eddie raised his eyebrows and stopped chewing for a moment. Slowly, he swallowed and sat back in his chair, wincing a little. Richie had been right, he was pretty sore, but at least he stretched regularly. He couldn’t imagine how Richie, a guy that hated exercise and stretching more than spoiled milk, must have felt. 

“Ask me…ask me what, if I’m single? You’re right, that is inappropriate.” He said, suppressing a smile. He wouldn’t deny that he enjoyed being the Stern Boss Man that everyone assumed he was every once in a while. 

“I’m sorry Mr. Kaspbrak, I shouldn’t have asked, I mean we figured you’re not _single_ single, especially after today, but we just wanted to know a little more about you I guess, I didn’t mean—” Lindsey stopped rambling when Eddie held up a hand. 

“Especially after today?” He asked, fearing that his “walking fast” plan hadn’t worked. Lindsey swallowed and nodded. 

“I mean because of the um…” She gestured vaguely to her neck and Eddie shut his eyes and sighed, fears confirmed. 

“Damn. It’s that noticeable?” He asked, Boss Man persona falling away rapidly. Lindsey shrugged with a small smile. 

“It’s not that bad, but you just seemed different today. We were all sort of looking for what had changed anyway. I would have noticed if I wasn’t paying extra attention.” She said reassuringly. Eddie sighed again and took another bite from his salad. Lindsey started to get up but he held out a hand again, motioning for her to sit back down. She looked almost startled, which he felt a little guilty about, but he didn’t relinquish his steely look. 

“Alright, yes, I used to be married. I’m not anymore. I’m also not single. Is there anything else you and the others need to know?” He asked flatly. That pop song was still stuck in his head. By this point, Richie possibly listening to 2000s/early 2010s teen pop music wasn’t even surprising. He was pretty sure he had seen multiple Britney Spears albums in the bookcase of vinyls. Lindsey shook her head. 

“Again, I’m so sorry, I really didn’t want to—”

“Lindsey, it’s fine.” Eddie interrupted, finally cracking a smile. “I understand. I don’t talk about myself much, it’s natural that my coworkers—employees, whatever you guys call yourselves—would want to know more about me.” He assured with a nod. The receptionist started to leave again, but Eddie stopped her once more. “Wait, Lindsey,” he stated before she could open the door. 

“Yes Mr. Kaspbrak?” She seemed significantly less stressed than she had been not a minute before. 

“Do you know the song that’s like ‘hey hey, you you, I don’t like your girlfriend’?” He asked, still unable to get the tune out of his head. He knew it was silly to ask, but he needed to let Lindsey know he really wasn’t mad.

“Um. Yeah?” The young employee looked like she was suppressing a laugh. 

“What is it? I haven’t been able to figure it out and it’s kind of bothering me.” Eddie confessed with a chuckle, glad that he was bringing some amusement into Lindsey’s life, if only momentarily. 

“Uh, Girlfriend by Avril Lavign I think. W-why, if I may ask?” She replied, smiling brightly. Eddie took another bite from his salad. 

“My boyfriend was singing it this morning and it’s been stuck in my head all damn day.” He said offhandedly, once again turning his attention to the spreadsheets. He looked back up when Lindsey didn’t respond. Her eyes had gone wide and there was a soft smile on her face. Eddie raised a finger to his lips and gave a knowing smile. Baby steps. Telling one person in the office was enough for now, and that was okay. Lindsey nodded and smiled wider. 

“Have a good day, Mr. Kaspbrak.” She said curtly. 

“You too, Lindsey. And please, call me Eddie. You can keep the door open if you want.” He said warmly. Lindsey left and was immediately greeted by hushed voices asking what had happened.

“He said I could call him Eddie. He’s not single.” Was all Lindsey responded with. Eddie smiled. Baby steps. Baby steps were good. 

The day Richie began his tour, which started in San Diego, Eddie took the day off of work to spend as much time with his boyfriend as he could. _Boyfriend_. Eddie still got excited about the title. Sometimes it felt a little immature for two forty year olds, but most of the time he loved the fact that he could call Richie his boyfriend. He was beyond excited for the show, but he was still a little broken up about the fact that he couldn’t accompany Richie for the whole tour. Richie didn’t know this, but Eddie hoped that the way he kissed the man with an almost broken desperation conveyed his feelings well enough. At the show, Eddie couldn’t pretend he wasn’t surprised by how many people had shown up. He was further surprised by how many of said people were young, a lot of them teen girls. Backstage, he could tell Richie was beyond nervous. “Hey.” He said softly, smoothing out Richie’s suit lapels and adjusting his bow-tie. 

“I’m fine, babe, just…stage fright.” Richie said unconvincingly. His hands shook as he took off his glasses and cleaned them for the millionth time in the past half hour. Eddie took them and put them on, making a point to show them off like an eyewear model. Richie needed a distraction and Eddie wasn’t good at thinking of things under pressure, so this was the best he could offer. He felt almost as stressed as Richie looked, but he couldn’t show that, not now. “Hey, those are mine.” Richie said unenthusiastically, shaking his hands as if he could get rid of his jitters like they were water droplets on his fingers. Eddie took off the glasses and blinked to adjust his sight back to normal. 

“Christ, you’re blind.” He teased with a smile, putting the glasses back on the taller man and slipping his arms around his waist. “Richie,” Eddie added softly when he didn’t react. Richie finally looked down at him, eyes full of restless anxiety. “You’re the funniest guy I know. You’re a damn good storyteller, your writing is pretty fucking remarkable and the talent you’ve got is…it’s special. Remember what you told me over the summer in the cistern? ‘You’re braver than you think’. That’s what you said. Take your own advice.” Eddie affirmed, studying Richie lovingly. He pressed a closed mouth kiss to his lips just as Steve, Richie’s manager, burst into the minuscule side room (it was basically a closet, ironically) they had found themselves in. 

“Rich, you’re on in twenty minutes, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” He said, much more urgent than necessary, flashing his wristwatch as if it did anything to get things moving. 

“Alright, yeah, thanks.” Richie dismissed, a silent conversation happening between him and Steve in the seconds it took the neurotic man to leave. 

“Jeez, he’s worse than me.” Eddie said blandly once he had disappeared completely, perking up when Richie actually laughed in response. 

“He definitely lives up to his job. Honestly, I don’t think he’s ever not managing. Alright Spaghetti,” Richie turned back to Eddie with a new look of determination in his eyes. “Time to venture into the great unknown. I’ll see you on the other side, soldier.” He said with a militant look that melted quickly into a small smile. He kissed Eddie once more and huffed a preparatory breath. “Love you, Eds. If I fuck this up to the point of no return, promise not to leave me?” He asked, holding out a single pinky. Eddie chuckled and shook his head but returned the gesture anyway, hooking his own pinky with Richie’s. 

“Pinky promise. Kick some comedic ass for me.” He said with an encouraging smile. Richie gave a single nod and disappeared through the door that Steve had. Once in his seat, Eddie took a deep breath and tried to send psychic words of encouragement to Richie. He still felt like a bundle of nerves, but he was also immeasurably excited. He knew Richie would be great, and he was. The show was his best in recent years by far, and Eddie definitely wasn’t the only one who thought that. A good amount of the crowd took part in a standing ovation at the end, but which Eddie had already been prepared to do. What he hadn’t been prepared for was Richie thanking him at the end. It was almost unnoticeable. 

“Thanks everybody! Thanks Eddie!” It was simple, two words in a four word sentence, barely heard above the applause, but it had brought tears to Eddie’s eyes. He met Richie backstage as soon as he could, nearly barreling into him when he went in for a tight hug. 

“God, that was so good Rich, you’re so fucking amazing.” He said, the flow of backstage workers separating around the two like they were Moses parting the Red Sea. Eddie wasn’t even paying attention to them, though, because all he could focus on was Richie, who was hugging him back with equal passion. They were soon separated, as Richie had to meet with the backstage pass people, and the hour that it took for them to be reunited was one of the most grueling that Eddie had ever endured in the past five months. He wouldn’t be able to see Richie in person much now that the tour had technically begun, even if the first showings were in California. Richie would have to stay in a hotel close to the playhouse and Eddie couldn’t just not work, so he was savoring every moment with the man. Afterwards, they made a quick getaway to a nearby bar where they could wind down. Richie still stayed true to his no alcohol policy, but Eddie could tell it was a bit of a struggle. 

“Do you wanna go somewhere else?” He asked, watching Richie eye his beer semi-longingly. He shook his head and took a prolonged sip of his water. 

“This is good, I just…I can’t believe I did it. Am doing it. Whatever. I just can’t believe it’s happening.” He said, letting out a laugh of disbelief. Eddie gave him a smile that turned sad too quickly. 

“Yeah. I’m gonna miss you.” He said softly. Richie looked at him with a look of solemn understanding. 

“I’m gonna miss you too, Eduardo. I’ll call you as much as I can.” He said hopefully. Eddie only nodded and sipped his beer. Richie’s phone was blowing up with texts from the other Losers, probably making him regret having told the group chat that he had completed his first show. “Well, on the bright side, the house’ll be way cleaner than it usually is for the next three months.” He said with a half smile. Eddie decided to play along, the night too celebratory for him to spend it moping about how little of Richie he’d be seeing. 

“Oh, so you expect me to clean while you’re gone?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. Richie chuckled and looked him up and down momentarily.

“You love it, don’t pretend you’re not going to take the chance to fix all the shit that pets your peeve or whatever,” He pointed out with a laugh. Eddie returned it, but before he could reply, a loud voice cut through the mediocre bar crowd. 

“Tozier!” It boomed, deep and masculine. Eddie turned to find the owner of the voice, who Richie seemed to have already spotted, and saw that it was an unrecognizable, average looking middle aged white guy that inexplicably put Eddie on edge. He was short, kind of stocky, fairly average looking, and had a grin on his face that Eddie didn’t trust. 

“Uh, hey…man.” Richie said, clearly trying to place the stranger as he approached the two. He didn’t acknowledge Eddie when he made it to them, but instead completely faced Richie, who gave a quick apologetic look to Eddie before forcing himself to endure whatever conversation random person seemed to expect to engage in. Eddie decided to tune the guy out until he left and took a disinterested sip of his beer. It wasn’t even minutes before he tuned back in, though, because he suddenly heard the inappropriately gruff guy say “yeah, I definitely liked your stuff better before it had all the gay shit, just my opinion” offhandedly. 

“Woah woah, hold the fuck up. Who asked?” Eddie interjected, forgetting to think twice about his words. No going back now. A flash of worry crossed Richie’s face.

“Eddie, this is Jason, he co-taught an improv class I took when I was like twenty three. Jason, this is my friend Eddie.” He said sheepishly. _Friend_. The word stung, but it wasn’t like Eddie was surprised by it. Jason was clearly not the type of person Richie wanted to disclose too much personal information to, and Eddie didn’t blame him. 

“What’d you say? What’d he say to me?” Jason looked back and forth from Eddie to Richie with an angry excitement, clearly having planned on provoking one or both of them. Richie silently pleaded with Eddie, but he wasn’t planning on backing down. 

“Nobody asked, so don’t be an asshole. Just don’t be an asshole period. Why are you here?” Eddie said sharply, not masking his disinterest in whatever bullshit the stranger felt the need to spread. 

“Eddie—” Richie tried to interrupt, but was quickly cut off by Jason. 

“Woah Richie, you didn’t tell me that being gay also meant all your friends become little _bitches_ . Control your _boyfriend_ , Tozier.” He spat the word boyfriend as if it were a slur. Eddie nearly got off his barstool, ready to show the guy that he was actually five feet and nine inches of whoop-ass, but Richie beat him to it. For a moment, Jason’s faux tough exterior broke and revealed the panic and insecurity that existed underneath. It was back up as fast as it had fallen away, but Eddie hadn’t missed the “oh shit he’s 6’2” look that had crossed the man’s face. Richie looked down at Jason darkly. 

“Back off, Jason. Better yet, go home and grow up. If I can do it, you sure as hell can.” He enforced, walking forward until Jason was forced to take a few steps backwards, nearly bumping into another patron. He looked like he was about to follow Richie’s advice when he paused, looking at him wickedly. Eddie felt like he was suffocating on the tension it was so thick. 

“Fine. Just figured I’d let you know that sales are gonna go way down now that people know you’re a faggot.” Jason growled, squaring his jaw. Eddie felt something in him snap. 

“Alright, let me at him! You wanna go, motherfucker? You wanna fuckin’ test me, asshole?” He hissed, hopping off the barstool and moving to sucker punch the guy. Richie knew better than to let him do so and restrained him with one arm across his chest.

“H—Eddie, stop. He’s not worth it.” He said with a venomous glare at Jason, who was still grinning but had a new flicker of fear in his eyes. Eddie struggled against the binds of Richie’s arm, long enough to wrap entirely across his chest, until Richie whispered casually in his ear “That was sexy as fuck.” That caused him to quit his attempts to fully attack Jason. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t come near me or my boyfriend again. Unless you want to get your ass kicked, of course.” Richie warned, moving so he was next to Eddie, the arm that had been restraining him now draped limply around his shoulders. “And don’t even think of saying more of whatever dense-ass homophobic bullshit you feel the need to take wherever you go be cause you can’t handle how pathetic you really are, just go away man.” Richie added, sounding tired. Jason thankfully took this advice and quickly left, clearly unhappy that he had been ousted. Once he was fully out of the bar, Richie let out an audible breath. Eddie suddenly felt extremely self conscious, as a few of the bar-goers were unashamedly staring at them. 

“Everything alright?” The solitary bartender’s voice cut through Eddie’s sudden avalanche of thoughts and insecurity.

“Yeah, yeah we handled it.” Richie answered for the both of them, letting his arm drop to his side and giving an assuring nod. The bartender looked at him warily before making his way to some new patrons at the other end. Richie gave a humorless chuckle. “Little does Jason know, a shit ton of my other shows are sold out, including the one I just knocked out of the fucking park.” He said, grabbing Eddie’s beer and absentmindedly taking a swig. 

“Rich, I thought—”

“I needed it, don’t judge. Plus, I think we should get out of here, and at the rate you were going I don’t think you were going to finish it on your own anyway.” He said with a wink, putting on his suit jacket and shoving his hands into his pockets in a way that should’ve been awkward but wasn’t. 

Eddie had never been too keen on hotel sex, but that night he made an exception. His therapist had said he needed to try being more open-minded, after all. You never know when something good will come of it, and something good definitely came this time, no pun intended. That was the last night that Eddie spent with Richie before they were separated for three months. 

To put it simply, the tour was hell. Well, for Eddie at least. It was a successful tour on Richie’s part, but Eddie found that he had worse separation anxiety than he had previously thought. He was no stranger to loneliness, but he had let spending so much time with the man he loved soften him. He was no longer going to bed with someone he felt like he barely knew, and it made the separation so much more unbearable. One day about halfway through, Eddie got a knock on the door at two P.M. on a Sunday. He had been napping, which was better than being awake even though it made him feel even more depressed than he already did, and probably looked like shit. He opened the door to find…Bill. 

“Woah. You look like shit.” Was all he said at first. Eddie leaned on the doorway and rubbed his eyes, squinting due to the midday sun.

“Did you drive from Phoenix just to tell me what I already knew?” He commented distastefully through a yawn. Bill chuckled. He had moved from Florida to Phoenix about two months after his movie premier for reasons unknown to Eddie. 

“Nah, I wanted to check on you. You haven’t been answering texts or calls and I know how you get when you’re away from Richie for so long. Plus, I had a writers convention thing to go to that was sort of near here. Figured I’d kill two birds with one stone. Can I come in?” Bill explained.

“Oh so I’m a bird that you feel the need to kill now? Stan would be offended.” Eddie shot sleepily and stepped aside, stretching after shutting the door behind the guest. He knew it wasn’t the best thing to bring up, but his filter had worn thin in his adjustment to life with barely any Richie 

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Bill mumbled, pulling Eddie into a short hug that he didn’t return. 

“And what d’you mean ‘how I get when I’m away from Richie’? You haven’t been around when we’ve been apart. And the last time we weren’t together for more than a week was like…a while.” Eddie said, too exhausted to treat Bill like an actual guest and offer him food or drink or whatever it is you do when one of your closest friends show up to your house unannounced, instead falling back into the position he had been in on the couch before he’d been woken up by the buzzer. 

“Remember in the summer of ninth grade when Richie did that sleep away camp for like two weeks that your mom didn’t let you go to?” Bill asked, opting for the purple bean bag instead of one of the actual chairs that were also stationed in the living room. Eddie groaned in acknowledgement. “You were acting exactly like this. Maybe a little more…spicy.”

“Spicy?” The tired man grumbled, blinking slowly and staring forward instead of making eye contact. 

“Yeah, I dunno. You yelled at me. Like _really_ yelled at me. And you were sort of…mean. To your friends, I mean. Especially Bev. I think you thought Richie liked her. That’s what you told Mike, at least. I dunno, but you were so _angry_ for those two weeks.” Bill explained meekly. Eddie remembered the two excruciating weeks vividly. 

“You’re a writer and the best word you could find was ‘spicy’?” Eddie asked disinterestedly, knowing that he had been much more than just “spicy” back then. Bill shrugged. 

“Well what did you want me to say, that you were an asshole? We all have our moments, Eddie.” He countered simply. This caused Eddie to get into a sitting position. 

“Yeah.” He said, sounding like he had just made a big realization. 

“What?” Bill asked, standing up when Eddie did. 

“Yeah. Tell me when I’m being an asshole. Call me out on my bullshit, don’t just stand there and fucking take it. Get mad.” He said wryly, advancing towards Bill as his words became more heated. Bill opened and closed his mouth, clearly surprised by Eddie’s sudden aggression. “Come on, Bill, get mad. You’re Big Bill Denbrough, you can do it. Get fucking mad!” Eddie demanded, breathing becoming rapid. Bill still didn’t say anything. “Stop looking at me like that and fucking call me out, Bill. Tell me how you really feel Bill, maybe it’s the wake-up call I need _Bill_ . Don’t be a fucking _pussy_.” 

Then Eddie pushed Bill. Straight on, both hands to Bill’s chest, a real _push_. Bill reflexively grabbed his wrist and in the same moment, Eddie realized that his cheeks felt wet. Why were his cheeks wet? Eddie shuffled back in shock until he sat back down on the couch, angrily wiping at his tears even though he knew they’d be soon replaced. “I need my fucking inhaler.” He said shakily, turning his face away from Bill in shame. 

“Holy shit.” He heard Bill whisper from where he was still standing dumbstruck. He then felt Bill’s weight beside him and brought himself to attempt eye contact. “It’s really bad, isn't it?” Bill asked innocently. Eddie could only nod in response as more tears burned in his eyes. That day, Eddie got what he had asked for. Bill did straighten him out, but not with anger or yelling. They had to get some help from Bev over the phone, but in the end Eddie was okay. He didn’t have any more days as bad as that, but when he was afraid that he might, he just called one of the Losers and they helped him through it. If there was one thing that Richie going on tour taught Eddie, it was that he had what were probably some of the best friends in human existence. And that he needed to talk to his therapist more about his severe codependency. Baby steps. At least he knew what was wrong with him, it’s not like he had to fix it right away. After Richie was home again, Eddie went back to normal almost immediately. It was a startling transition, but definitely one that he and everyone in his life was glad about. He probably had some apologies to make, Bill at the top of the list.

Two weeks after the tour ended, the Losers had their first official get together since Derry, and Eddie couldn’t have been more excited. They all decided to meet in Florida, as Mike seemed particularly eager to show his friends the life he had built, and the trip, though a short one, made Eddie feel like a teenager again. Playing games on the beach with his closest friends, staying up late to talk about pointless shit with the Losers, concealing his laughter at Richie’s bad jokes, Ben walking in on him and Richie making out and turning six shades of red under a second. It was all new yet familiar, nostalgic and fresh, and one night when he was stargazing with Richie on the beach (even though it was technically closed), Eddie was hit with the realization that he was going to be happy for the rest of his life. 

“Richie.” He whispered, studying the deep blue-black sky and lacing his fingers with Richie’s. He felt like if he let go of Richie’s hand, he’d fall into the deep nothingness of space and become one of the stars. Not even the thick beach towels and densely packed sand they were laying on grounded him as much as Richie.

“Yeah?” Richie whispered back. 

“I’m in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you too, Eds.” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Sure thing, Eds.”

Above them, the moon gleamed a brilliant, glowing white. Eddie thought it looked like it knew his secrets. _Secrets_. What secrets? Staring up at the knowing moon, Eddie thought about if he had any secrets. He could only think of one:

When Richie told him about what he had seen in the Deadlights, Eddie realized that he would have been content with dying that day in the cavern if it had been in Richie’s arms. 

Eddie figured that one day, the moon wouldn’t be the only one who knew that secret, but for now he was okay with it just being the two of them who held that information. For now he was okay with being happy. 

_You’re my favorite person in the whole wide world. Richie, I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, wow, so it’s officially over. Thanks so much for reading, and if you have any thoughts I’d love to hear em, don’t be afraid to comment. It’s been a hell of a ride :)


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